Time Circle
by Androgene
Summary: A pair of Sentinel and Guide travel back to present-day Cascade. Completed a few yrs back. Was formerly under Cyberoid13
1. Converging - Part 1

Name : Lee Sterling a.k.a. Cyberoid13  
Title : Time Circle - Converging   
Category : Drama  
Rating : G  
  
Author's comments : Yes! It's finally done! Whew! I thought I would never get   
this finished. This is the first instalment of the Time Circle trilogy, and a   
monster to write. Took me several drafts and at least three major plot changes   
before it takes shape. So without further ado, read on. By the way, it all started   
after 'Survival'.   
  
Disclaimer : The usual disclaimers apply. All Sentinel characters and locations   
do not belong to me…yadda, yadda, yadda…but all original characters do   
belong to me.  
  
Note : * - indicates thought  
// - indicates telepathic speech   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
~ CONVERGING ~  
  
  
Prologue  
  
Lightning clashed and hurricane winds howled, churning the atmosphere into a   
dizzying phenomenon of unbridled violence. The vortex was contained   
between by two slim man-tall pillars of metal and sheer energy. She had no   
doubt if unleashed, the storm could flatten the entire city effortlessly. It was that   
primal, that beautiful and that...unnatural.   
  
Her hackles raised as the last thought crossed her mind. *This is wrong,* she   
told herself silently. *We shouldn't be doing this at all. Yet our lives depend on   
it.*   
  
She tore her gaze away from the volatile display of what science could do and   
seek out the reassuring profile of her companion.  
  
Long reddish-brown hair tousled by the strong gust of wind from the vortex, the   
slighter-built woman stood at her side, arms wrapped protectively about   
herself. She doubted if her companion was even aware of what she was doing.   
Her companion stared unblinkingly at the vortex, even though the brilliance of   
pure colliding energy had got to hurt her eyes. Her companion turned, feeling   
her gaze on her.  
  
//Do we have to do this?// her companion asked plaintively.  
  
//We don't have a choice.// She bridged the distance between them with an   
arm and squeezed her companion's shoulder reassuringly. //Wait for my   
letters, okay?//  
  
//Just...stay alive. //  
  
//I will.// Giving her companion's shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, she   
turned to confront the terrifying phenomenon.  
  
She took a deep breath and walked forward, shielding her eyes from the   
brightness of the vortex looming ahead of her. *I must be insane to do this,*   
she thought nervously as she climbed the steps to the platform. Stopping right   
at the threshold, she looked back for the last time.   
  
Her companion stood a safe distance away, a lone small figure in the   
cavernous chamber. She was so still; her hair whipping about in the vortex-  
created wind the only flurry of movement.  
  
//Good luck,// came the quivery voice on the verge of crying.  
  
//Take care of yourself and your family.//  
  
She turned back to the vortex, her heart triple-thundering from fear. This was   
definitely insanity. She took another deep breath, closed her eyes and stepped   
into the vortex to meet her destiny.  
  
Her companion squeezed her eyes shut, involuntarily turning away from the   
brilliant flash of light that seared her eyes. When she could see again, the   
vortex had closed and the platform was empty again.   
  
*She's gone,* she thought incoherently. *She's not coming back. Ever.* Her   
gaze dropped to her trembling hands. She clenched her fists, pressing them   
hard against her stricken heart. *Why wasn't I with her? She needs me, damn   
it.*  
  
"Doctor."  
  
She raised her face blindly, blinking when she saw the general standing before   
her. She was so deep in her turmoil that she hadn't even noticed when he   
entered the chamber.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
The general took a deep breath, as though steeling himself against a very   
nasty task. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Doctor. But the transit didn't work."  
  
"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.  
  
Solemnly, the general handed her a very old piece of news clipping. Dazedly,   
she read it and read it again. An explosion in an abandoned building, killing two   
in a seedy neighbourhood of Cascade. The fog of grief dissipated, replaced by   
a fissure of alarm that spread swiftly through her being.   
  
"We have to warn her," she declared. "She needs to know about this."  
  
"My sentiments exactly, Doctor. How long would you need to come up with   
another personnel recommendation?"  
  
"I can give you a name right now."  
  
The general was surprised. "Who is it?"   
  
"Me."  
  
He immediately shook his head. "That's out of the question, Doctor."  
  
"It is the only logical solution, sir. You have to send me back. She will not listen   
to anyone else beside me. You'll have to trust me on it."  
  
The general hesitated, seeing the flinty determination in her dark blue eyes.   
Whatever argument the general wanted to make was lost. He did trust her to   
make the right decision, though he could not understand her unique   
relationship with the other woman.   
  
"All right," he said at last. "Go get changed. You'll transit in five hours."   
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Major Crimes, Cascade PD  
Friday - 7pm  
  
It had been a quiet day at work, for once. Detective James Ellison hummed   
softly under his breath as he closed the file of his latest case and dropped it   
into his 'Out' tray with a relieved smile. *There, paperwork all done.*   
  
It had been two unusually long days. Long because he was not out there doing   
field work, but rather he was stuck at his desk catching up with his paperwork.   
Two days ago, Simon had very casually hinted at retribution if he didn't clear   
the stack of work piling up on his desk. Jim took the hint.  
  
At first he hadn't mind clearing his caseload, despite his aversion to   
paperwork. The past few weeks had been somewhat tiring. Starting with the   
desperate race against time to save Simon taken hostage by Quinn, and after   
that, solving a spate of bank robberies and a murder case. He and his partner   
didn't get a chance to sit down and take a breather before the next tough case   
landed on their desk.   
  
Especially his partner. Blair Sandburg already had a hard time juggling his   
university life with police work. Now a leg healing from a bullet wound and the   
trauma of being airlifted out of Cascade National Reserve took further toil on   
his partner with Energizer-like energy.   
  
But after one day straight of desk work without Blair's help, Jim was starting to   
feel confined. He just wasn't the administrative type. His partner, on the other   
hand, being an academic, didn't have problems with writing reports. Too bad   
he was stuck at the university rushing to meet a paper deadline. On the second   
day, Jim had to grit his teeth and dove into the remaining caseload with a   
single-mindedness that would do his partner proud.   
  
But all these concentration paid off. At last his caseload was cleared and   
Simon no longer have any reason to glower at his desk.   
  
Jim pushed back his chair, stretching the kinks out of his stiff back. Simon had   
already left for home - he was looking forward to another weekend with Daryl.   
He would just have to hand in the stack of completed reports on Monday. He   
glanced up at the wall clock.   
  
Seven o'clock. Time for the changing of the shifts. The bullpen was crowded as   
staff from both the day and night shifts mingled. It was time for him to go home   
too, as he worked the day shift. One last trip to the break room to clean out his   
mug of stale coffee and he was ready to go.  
  
He had told his partner he would be there at Rainier University to pick him up   
at eight. Ever since his Corvair was trashed by that Summers kid, Sandburg   
hadn't been able to find the perfect car within the small budget he allocated for   
it. And besides, he didn't trust Blair to be alone for any reasonable length of   
time and not attract trouble.   
  
He wove his way through the crowded bullpen, exchanging pleasantries with   
several fellow cops. His attention distracted by a joke Brown was telling, Jim   
accidentally bumped into someone entering the bullpen.   
  
"Sorry," he apologised automatically. His good mood faded when he finally saw   
who it was he bumped into. His instinctive wariness that never lowered due to   
the dangerous nature of his job rose another notch. "McKennitt."   
  
"Ellison," Detective J.E. McKennitt acknowledged coolly.  
  
Detective J.E. McKennitt was the latest addition to the Major Crimes Unit. She   
had joined them a month ago and very quickly earned the nickname 'Ice   
Queen'.   
  
McKennitt wasn't that bad to look at. She was about the same age as he was,   
give or take a few years. Her mane of shoulder-length black hair framed a face   
arresting for its stark strength and pride. The slant to her dark brown eyes, the   
slight bluntness of her cheekbones hinted at Oriental heritage.  
  
But it was her behaviour that held people back at arm's length. She was   
reserved and aloof, distant and cold.   
  
McKennitt was the new Lone Wolf of the unit. She refused to have a partner,   
nor did she make any efforts to make friends. She wasn't difficult to work. On   
contrary, most people agreed that she was much easier to get along than Jim   
had been when he was the Lone Wolf. They also agreed it was a bad idea to   
provoke her temper though.   
  
"Watch where you're going the next time." Slinging her gym bag over her   
shoulder, she brusquely moved past him and into the bullpen.   
  
Jaws flexing, the only indication of his disappearing good mood, Jim stalked off   
to the break room. Was it just him, or did McKennitt really has something   
against him?   
  
"Hey, Jim!" The all-too familiar voice halted him halfway down the corridor.   
  
Blair Sandburg, his partner with the perchance for attracting trouble, bounced   
down the corridor to meet him. His coffee-brown hair was damp, and there was   
a light sheen of rainwater on his brown leather jacket. But his dark blue eyes   
sparkled with that endless energy that characterised him. He was still limping   
slightly, but that didn't seem to hinder his hyper behaviour. Blair had recovered   
pretty fast from his leg injury, eschewing his walking cane for his own two legs.  
  
"I was just about to come pick you up from the campus."  
  
"Managed to beat the deadline a few hours earlier than I thought. A friend of   
mine offered to give me a lift, so I decided to save you the trouble. You ready   
to go?"  
  
"Yeah. Just as soon I clean out my mug."   
  
Jim resumed his walk to the break room, Blair falling into steps beside him. It   
didn't take Blair long to realise that something was bothering his partner.   
  
His Sentinel's chiselled and finely-carved face doesn't give away his thoughts   
and emotions easily. But from long experience working and living together with   
him, Blair was intimately attuned to the working of his psyche and body   
language. To him, Jim's black mood was about as obvious as a neon   
signboard.   
  
"What's wrong, Jim?"  
  
Jim's jaws just flexed, a sure sign of irritation. He didn't answer nor did he   
afford a glance in his partner's direction. He just stalked to the break room and   
rinsed out his mug with several furious moves. When he turned away from the   
sink, he saw Blair leaning against the wall with a patient 'well-I'm-waiting' look.   
  
He exhaled, releasing some of his irritation with that breath and told Blair, "I   
bumped into McKennitt before you arrives."   
  
Blair's reaction was immediate. "You two didn't start another quarrel, did you?"   
  
Jim snorted, but he didn't protest the allegation. It was common knowledge in   
the unit that McKennitt and he were like same magnetic poles - they repelled   
each other violently.   
  
Blair knew that Jim had a natural hostility towards the latest addition to Major   
Crimes, and it appeared that McKennitt herself felt the same way about Jim.   
He had his own theory for it: two extremely territorial people defending his and   
her own territories which overlapped due to close working proximity. It was a   
theory Jim didn't care much for. It made him sound like a Neanderthal, he   
declared to his Guide.  
  
Blair could still vividly remember the first time they clashed. It was a month ago   
on McKennitt's first day at work in Major Crimes. Jim had been extremely   
reluctant to go over to her desk to introduce himself and welcomed her to the   
unit. On hindsight, he should have recognised Jim's instinctive response and   
leave things as it was. But he didn't, and he was still kicking himself over it.  
  
Even until now, Blair had no idea what went wrong. Jim and McKennitt were   
exchanging cautious pleasantries, and the next thing he knew, their   
conversation had escalated into a verbal fight. He had to practically drag Jim   
away before they physically went for each other's throat. He had never seen   
instant dislike flare up as intensely as theirs.   
  
"So what happened?" Blair pressed.  
  
"I walked into her, I apologised to her, and all she told me was to watch where I   
was going the next time."   
  
Blair relaxed, though he was still mystified. "So what's the problem?"  
  
"It's the way she said it, Chief. Just rubbed me the wrong way."   
  
"I'm sure she didn't mean it, Jim. Look at it this way, the two of you are a   
classic example of people who cannot live together."   
  
"Right." Jim sounded disbelieving. He picked up his clean mug. "Let's go,   
Chief."   
  
Back at the bullpen, Jim placed his mug back in its usual place, tidied up his   
desk while keeping an eye on McKennitt all the time. The detective was at her   
desk, phone receiver cradled between shoulder and neck as she exchanged   
her sneakers for the heavy-duty boots she usually wore.   
  
"So what are we having for dinner?" Blair asked brightly.  
  
Jim grabbed his black leather jacket from the coat rack. "Why don't we get out   
of here first?"   
  
Blair noticed the slight tension in Jim's voice, and the direction he was looking   
at. He understood immediately. Jim didn't want to be anywhere near McKennitt   
any longer than he had to. He hurried to keep up with Jim and his longer   
strides. But as luck would have it, they barely made it out of the bullpen when   
she crossed paths with them again.  
  
"Ellison."   
  
Jim stopped in mid-step, giving a 'now what?' expression to the heavens.   
Beside him, Blair was wincing at the anticipated confrontation.  
  
"Be calm, Jim." He whispered almost soundlessly to his Sentinel. "Just hear   
what she's got to say first, all right?"  
  
Jim glared at him even as he reined in the anger that simmered whenever   
McKennitt was nearby. He schooled his face into the infamous Ellison's stony   
countenance that turned hard-boiled criminals to quivering mush, and directed   
the full weight of that glare to McKennitt.  
  
"What do you want?" Beside him, Blair cringed at the rudeness in his voice.   
  
But McKennitt remained nonplussed. "Do you remember a Al Robertson?"   
  
Jim's black mood soured further. How could he not forget? Robertson was a   
case that, other his nose telling him the truth, there was no concrete evidence   
against him.   
  
"I arrested him two months ago on charges of drug-dealing. But he was   
released due to a lack of evidence. Why do you ask?"  
  
"My snitch just called. He's got a tip that Robertson is about to make another   
exchange down at the corner of Graham Street and West Avenue at twelve   
tonight."  
  
"Graham Street?" Jim folded his arms across his chest as he thought about it.   
"Shady neighbourhood."  
  
"I'll need backup. And since you know Robertson better than I do, maybe you   
would like to join me."  
  
Jim raised his eyebrows at the carefully worded request. It was rare to hear   
McKennitt asking for help, even rarer to have her asking him for help. He   
glanced at his partner, debating whether to take her up on that offer.  
  
"I don't know. My partner's still recovering from his leg wound."  
  
"Come on, Jim." Blair interrupted what he knew to be a lame excuse. "I'm all   
right. See, I can walk just fine."  
  
"What about Simon's orders?" Jim asked obliquely.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Sandburg — " Jim began warningly.  
  
"Okay, okay. I take it back." Blair had to refrain from rolling his eyes.   
  
He knew darned well Simon had ordered Jim to stay away from McKennitt after   
their first confrontation. But he wasn't in the mood to listen to orders right now.   
He was getting pretty tired of sitting on the sideline.   
  
"Jim, please." He pleaded, giving him the puppy-dog look. "Beside, you can't   
just let a fellow cop do a stakeout without backup."   
  
Bull's eye.  
  
Jim sighed and gave up, knowing it was pointless to argue further. What his   
partner said was right, and had struck a nerve in him. As much as he dislikes   
McKennitt, he couldn't bring himself to turn down a fellow cop's request for   
backup. The job was hazardous enough as it is; no point making it worse. *The   
kid got my number, all right.*   
  
"Fine," he told McKennitt finally. "But you'll take your car and I'll take my   
truck. How about it?"  
  
"Sounds just fine with me, Ellison."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
8th Street, Cascade  
Friday - 11:30pm  
  
Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled ominously. It was not   
unusual for rainstorms to arrive during spring. That was one of the   
unpredictable hazards of the Pacific Northwest. But the bolt of blue lightning   
striking the alleyway, and moments later, a body falling, bouncing off a fire   
escape, to finally hit the ground in a senseless heap was unusual, to say the   
least.  
  
The body began to stir moments later, moaning inaudibly. The long mass of   
reddish-brown hair hiding her face like a curtain, she slowly, painfully, climbed   
to her feet. An occasional whimper was the only sound she made. Half-doubled   
over in obvious agony, she staggered drunkenly out of the alleyway and   
slumped against the building's wall. She began to shiver, partly from the rainy   
chill, partly from the difficult travel that had sapped her strength. The clothes   
she wore - simple sweater, jeans and hiking boots - were not enough to keep   
her warm.   
  
Her surroundings were familiar, yet at the same time unfamiliar. She didn't like   
it at all, uncomfortable with the strangeness of the situation.   
  
Closing her eyes, she laid a hand against her chest, feeling her pounding heart.   
Healing warmth spread from her palm and into her heart, and rapidly   
throughout her body. Opening eyes surprisingly alert and free of pain, she   
straightened and pushed herself away from the support of the cold brick wall.   
There was a street sign near her; she squinted to see the name.   
  
"8th Street," she muttered to herself. "I'm on 8th Street."   
  
On strong legs, she trotted down the pavement, heading unerringly in the right   
direction. She paused when she saw a yellow-top vehicle cruising down   
towards her.   
  
A cab, she realised. *Yes!*   
  
"Where to, lady?" the cab driver asked cheerfully as she tumbled into the back   
seat.  
  
"Graham Street," she replied breathlessly. "As fast as you can go."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Corner of Graham Street and West Avenue,  
Cascade  
Friday night - 11:45pm  
  
"Brr..." Blair burrowed deeper into his jacket in the cab of the loaner truck. He   
tucked his hands under his arms. "Tell me again, Jim. Why can't we have the   
heat on?"   
  
"Because the windows will fog from the condensation," Jim replied obligingly,   
"and give our position away." He glanced at his partner when he shifted   
restlessly for the nth time during the stakeout. "Stop that squirming, Chief. It's   
distracting."  
  
"I'll stop squirming, period, when we get the Expedition back from the shop,"   
Blair retorted. "The seat of this loaner's killing my butt, man. Don't you find it   
cold and uncomfortable in here?"   
  
Jim tried unsuccessfully not to smirk at his uncomfortable partner looking for all   
the world like a hyper-active kid trying hard not to squirm...which was not too   
far removed from the truth.   
  
"Relax, Chief. We got fifteen minutes more to go. If nothing happens by then,   
we're outta here and back in our warm and cosy loft."  
  
"Before I turn into a block of ice," Blair grunted. "I hope."   
  
"Quit complaining. This was your idea."   
  
Jim resumed his vigilant lookout, listening amusedly to Blair griping about 'why   
he had to open his big mouth'.   
  
There was an abandoned building on the corner of Graham Street and West   
Avenue. It was the perfect location for any shady exchange to take place. He   
and his partner were parked three blocks up on Graham Street, the battered-  
looking loaner blending right in with the other equally dismal-looking vehicles   
parked along the pavement. McKennitt was staking out West Avenue in her   
brown Buick.   
  
Jim pulled his Jags baseball cap lower over his face, shading his sensitive   
eyes from the streetlights as he upped his Sentinel senses. He scanned the   
area methodically, square by grid square, searching for that one suspicious   
sign that would give the criminals away. Blair's voice was a reassuring murmur   
in his mind, anchoring him.   
  
His walkie-talkie, which had been silent for nearly an hour, crackled alive   
again. "McKennitt to Ellison."  
  
Eyes never leaving the scene, Jim took the police walkie-talkie from the   
dashboard. "Ellison."  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"No." With his hearing turned up, Jim could hear the barely audible sigh coming   
through the walkie-talkie.  
  
"Nothing on my end either. Keep your eyes open. McKennitt out."  
  
In her Buick, McKennitt dumped the walkie-talkie back onto the dashboard and   
rubbed her temple.   
  
Something has better happen in the next fifteen minutes, or she's going to be a   
jumble of frayed nerves by then. Her senses were going haywire, had been   
acting up for nearly fifteen minutes. It was like someone throwing on and   
yanking off a muffler with a sporadic timing. The unpredictability of it was   
driving her nuts.   
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain her normal calm.   
Her senses faded again, bringing with it a welcomed relief. The series of deep   
breathing exercises she was taught worked as it always did, bringing a sense   
of peace to her mind.  
  
***  
  
Blair blinked as the transmission ended abruptly. "Well, that was brief. I   
wonder what's eating her?"  
  
"Probably just her nature," Jim replied irritably as he put down the walkie-talkie.  
  
"Come on, Jim. You don't really think that, do you?" His partner kept his eyes   
straight front. Blair sighed. "I know this is going sound impossible, but all these   
animosity between the two of you has got to go."  
  
"Chief, we barely tolerate each other."  
  
"But you're working in the same unit. The elite unit in the police department, for   
that matter. All these hostility can't be good for the unit, or for either of you.   
One of these days, the both of you are going to start a fight you're going to   
regret." Blair shook his head at the sheer hard-headedness of the two very   
strong people he knew. "Maybe it's the competitive streak in you two."   
  
Jim's glacial blue eyes speared him with a suspicious glower. "What do you   
mean by that, Chief?"  
  
"Don't you know? McKennitt's track record is almost as good as yours."  
  
"And how would you know that?"  
  
"I went down to Personnel and did some checking."   
  
Jim only looked at him long and steady.  
  
"Someone has to got to find out why she ticks you off so much," he protested   
defensively. "And it's all through proper channels."  
  
Jim's steady gaze never waver.   
  
"Okay, okay, I persuaded Julie to let me have a peek at McKennitt's file.   
Satisfied?" Blair sighed mentally. Trust his partner to dig every bit of the truth   
out of him.  
  
"So what did you find out?"   
  
"One year in Narcotics, plus another six in Homicide. Transferred to Major   
Crimes a month ago. Other than the fact she always worked alone and her   
track record is excellent? Nada."   
  
Blair glanced at his partner to check whether he was listening and discovered   
that he was, but not to him. He recognised the Sentinel's listening-in-enhanced-  
mode pose: chin lifted, head slightly cocked and eyes distant.   
  
His dissatisfaction with his partner's attitude forgotten, Blair slipped instantly   
into Guide mode.   
  
"Jim?" He reached over to touch his shoulder, grounding the Sentinel. "What   
did you hear?"   
  
"Someone just entered the building." Jim grabbed the walkie-talkie.   
"McKennitt."  
  
"Ellison, someone's in the building." Came the reply almost instantly.  
  
Jim and Blair exchanged a startled look.   
  
"I'm going in," McKennitt continued to say.  
  
"You're not going in alone," Jim objected firmly.   
  
"Ellison -"  
  
Jim cut her off unceremoniously, not giving her a chance to protest. "Take the   
back door. I'll go in by the front. Do you read me, McKennitt?"  
  
In her Buick, McKennitt was almost tempted to ignore his order. She had been   
doing stakeouts about as long as he did, damn it. But this was not the time for   
an argument.  
  
"Yes, I read you." She snapped, clearly annoyed at being overrode so quickly.   
  
Jim tossed the walkie-talkie to Blair and took the combination headset. "Stay   
here, Chief."  
  
"Jim -" Blair began protest.  
  
"Not now, Sandburg. I'm going to have my hands full with McKennitt and   
Robertson in a while. I need to know you're safe, just for my peace of mind."   
  
Blair watched as Jim put on the appearance of someone heading for home and   
made his way towards the building. Taking the binoculars he brought specially   
for this occasion, Blair scanned West Avenue.   
  
McKennitt was crossing the street, heading for the building as well. She was   
also wearing a combination headset and her gun was held loosely by her side.   
Her eyes were constantly scanning her surrounding. For a wild moment, he   
thought she was looking straight at him.   
  
*Must be my imagination,* he dismissed uneasily. *No way she could see me   
from that distance. Man, am I getting paranoid or what.*   
  
Unaware of the thoughts running through Blair's mind, McKennitt disappeared   
into the back alley. For once, her sight and hearing were working to her   
advantage. Her heavy-duty boots made no sounds as she surely picked her   
way through the rubbish-littered alley. Gun held aloof, she cautiously opened   
the back door to the building and peered in. Only when she was sure that the   
area was clear did she slip inside.  
  
***  
  
Blair chewed his lower lip, nervously drumming his fingers on his thigh, as he   
eyed the abandoned building. Jim had vanished into the building just minutes   
ago and he already felt as though he had been waiting for hours.  
  
There was something very wrong about this scenario. The grad student knew   
he was no cop to make such a judgement, but he had learnt enough from the   
real cops to heed his gut instincts. If only he knew what was wrong with the   
picture.   
  
"Jim?" He spoke softly into the walkie-talkie.  
  
"Yeah, Chief?"   
  
"I don't like this, man. I really don't like this."  
  
"Is there trouble out there?"  
  
"No, but -"  
  
Jim sighed soundlessly. "Sandburg, just keep your eyes peeled for any   
surprises out there, okay? Let McKennitt and I watch the inside. I'm going   
silent."  
  
Focused on the situation once more, Jim led the way to the stairs. The building   
was quiet and very dusty. He covered his nose yet again with a black-leather   
clad arm, stifling the coming sneeze. Behind him, McKennitt did the same on   
her dark brown trench coat.  
  
"Way too much dust around here," she muttered too softly for anyone but a   
Sentinel could hear.  
  
Jim heartily agreed but said nothing. The heartbeat he detected from outside   
was moving about on the third floor. He tapped McKennitt's shoulder and   
pointed upward. She nodded, silently following him as he took point.   
  
They had to move cautiously, taking care to prevent the wooden stairs from   
creaking and giving their presence away. He frowned when behind him,   
McKennitt stumbled suddenly.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Missed a step back there."  
  
"Don't you have a flashlight?"   
  
McKennitt glared daggers at him, but kept her mouth shut. She took out a slim   
torch from her trench coat pocket. It wasn't her fault that her sight fritzed out   
again, right after her hearing, without warning. It was downright frustrating, not   
knowing why her senses were on a fritz.   
  
Then Jim suddenly motioned for her to stop. She did, watching his intent   
expression changed into a puzzled frown, then finally into comprehension.  
  
"What?" she mouthed the word.  
  
But Jim simply shook his head and moved on again. McKennitt didn't have to   
know that the perp upstairs had switched on a white-noise generator, blocking   
his hearing. That told him two thing a) the criminal knew they were here, or b)   
the criminal was dealing with a Sentinel crook and that, Jim was not prepared   
to accept.  
  
When they finally reached the third floor, Jim and McKennitt split up, covering   
the entire level. Jim felt his frustration increased when they turned up empty. It   
was as though the perp had vanished, which was not impossible since Jim   
couldn't hear him leave the building with the white-noise generator on.  
  
The only trouble was the perp must have used two white-noise generators   
because he could feel the audio emptiness just ahead of him. Skunking   
forward cautiously, he entered the empty room. His Sentinel sight, already   
compensating for the darkness inside the building, drew unerringly to the two   
small devices sitting in the corner.   
  
One was the white-noise generator. The other had a timer that said less than a   
minute remaining and counting down.   
  
Jim knew what that meant. His yell splintered the silence inside the building.  
  
"There's a bomb! It's going to blow!"   
  
***  
  
Back in the loaner, Blair continued to drum his fingers nervously on his thighs.   
His dark blue gaze darted from the streets to the building back and forth. Then   
he finally made up his mind. He was not going to leave his Sentinel in there   
unguided. He grabbed the cell phone and all but tumbled out of the loaner in   
his haste.  
  
He had barely taken three steps when he was grabbed from behind. The hand   
clamping over his mouth sent fissures of fear shooting through his body. Acting   
on pure instincts, he began to struggle.  
  
//Ssh...ssh. I'm not here to hurt you.//  
  
For some unknown reasons, Blair felt the reassuring goodness in that voice.   
He ceased struggling, not realising what had just happened. He tentatively   
pulled away; the arms releasing him easily enough. Turning around, he was   
astonished to find that it was a woman smaller than him who had ambushed   
him. Man, if the situation wasn't so tense, he would find it embarrassing.  
  
"Is there anyone in the building?" she demanded.  
  
"Yes. Why?"  
  
She paled. "They have to get out of the building now. There's a bomb in there!"  
  
Blair gaped at her. "What?!"  
  
"It's going to go off any minute!"  
  
Blair whirled and ran towards the building, yelling all the while. "Jim! Get out of   
the building now! There's a bomb in there!"  
  
"No! Don't go near there!" The woman yanked him back. She was surprisingly   
strong for her small build.   
  
Blair stumbled, falling to the ground on his rump. He scrambled to rise, freezing   
when he locked eyes with the woman. All thoughts fled his mind, so intense   
and compelling was her gaze.   
  
//Stay here. Or better yet, go back to the truck and stay there.//  
  
He wanted to protest, try to insist that his Sentinel needs him. But there was a   
strangely compelling look in those eyes. His protests died and Blair Sandburg,   
for the few times in his life, stayed where he was told. Sitting on the cold road   
on his butt, numbly watching as the woman raced on and disappeared into the   
building.  
  
***  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time, McKennitt was glad when her sight decided to   
help her out this once. She negotiated the rotting steps nimbly, without her   
flashlight. The crazily bobbing light was giving her a headache anyway. But of   
course, all good things never last.  
  
Her sight fritzed out again, throwing her off-balance. She missed a step and   
tumbled, one foot going through the rotting plank. She tried to yank her foot   
out, but it was stuck.   
  
"Shit!"  
  
Jim, who was right behind her, knelt down and tried to free her foot.   
  
"Get out of here, Ellison." She hissed through teeth gritted with pain.   
  
"No. I'm not leaving you behind." Jim stomped on the rotting plank but it would   
appeared that only that section was rotten because the plank held.  
  
"Just go, damn it!" She snarled, trying to free her foot.   
  
"Jamie!"   
  
Jim jerked around when he heard the shriek. A woman, long reddish-brown   
hair flying, burst into the building and practically flew over to them.  
  
McKennitt's jaws dropped. "Ariel?"  
  
The woman felt her trapped foot. "You're stuck!"  
  
Jim roughly hoisted the woman to her feet, provoking an outraged shout from   
McKennitt. "Let her go!"  
  
The Sentinel ignored her. "There's a bomb in here, lady! Get out of here now!"  
  
"No, you get out of here! I can free myself!" McKennitt yelled back even as she   
tried desperately to free her foot.  
  
The woman locked eyes with Jim. //You heard her. Go!//  
  
Jim hesitated. Her voice was compelling but he was much too stubborn to heed   
it.   
  
//I said GO!//  
  
Caving in, Jim finally turned and sprinted for the door.   
  
The woman turned back to the trapped McKennitt, hunching down to touch her   
trapped foot. There was an invisible hold grasping the foot by its ankle,   
refusing to let go. Nothing she can't handle.  
  
//This is one of his traps, Jamie.// She explained even as she deftly freed   
McKennitt's ankle.  
  
//The Boss? But he's dead.//  
  
//No, not dead. There, you're free!//  
  
McKennitt didn't waste time talking. Grabbing the woman by her arm, they   
raced for the entrance. The detective hoped they would be able to make it in   
time.   
  
***  
  
Still sitting where he had fallen, Blair saw Jim bursting out from the building.   
Relief flooded him but he didn't move from his spot. Even when his Sentinel   
stopped just across the street away from the building, clearly waiting agitatedly   
for McKennitt to exit, he still didn't move. It was as though he was outside his   
body, watching through a stranger's eyes.   
  
Then the woman and McKennitt dashed out into the open, the female detective   
yelling at Jim to clear to a safe distance. Blair sat frozen to the spot as he   
watched the two desperately fleeing the building. They had barely crossed the   
street when the building exploded.  
  
"Jim!"   
  
Shocked out of his paralysis by the explosion, Blair leapt to his feet. Heat and   
shock wave blasted past him, but he paid no heed to them. He ran towards his   
partner knocked down by the explosion. Man, oh man, ohmanohman, the   
explosion could just overwhelm his Sentinel.  
  
Skidding to a halt, he fell to his knees by his partner's side. He reached out   
trembling hands, checking to see if his Sentinel was hurt.  
  
"You all right?" he asked anxiously. "Jim, are you all right?"  
  
Jim blinked and shook his head, dazedly sitting up. "Yeah, just one hell of a   
headache. My ears are ringing."  
  
"Turn your hearing down, Jim." Blair instructed calmly, even though he was   
feeling anything but calm. "Turn it down until the ringing stops. Is it better?"  
  
"Much. Thanks, Chief."  
  
Jim got up to his feet, Blair giving him a helping hand when it seemed he was   
about to lose his balance again. He scanned the area, searching for McKennitt   
and the mysterious woman. He found them and his heart sank.   
  
"Call 911, Chief." He hurried over to the stricken McKennitt cradling the limp   
bloodstained body in her arms in the middle of the road.   
  
"We got a civilian down."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Interlude  
  
"Boss? It's me."  
  
"They're not dead."  
  
"Um, no, sir. I think Glassner tipped them off."  
  
"Glassner? As in Ariel Glassner?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Do you know what she was doing there?"  
  
"No, sir. But she was badly injured by the explosion. Do you want me to finish   
them off?"   
  
"No, leave them alone for now. I want you to silence Slip instead."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You heard me, Marisa. Just do as I bid now."  
  
"Yes, Boss."  
  
Click. Pause.  
  
"Fillmore."  
  
"Yeah, Boss?"  
  
"I have a task for you."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Cascade General Hospital  
Saturday morning - 2am   
  
Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crimes Unit hates rushing down to the   
hospital in the wee hours of the morning because it only meant one thing: his   
people were once again hurt in the line of duty. He had paid so many visits to   
the hospital he swore he could find the operating theatres blindfolded. And   
from past experiences learnt the hard way, he just knew who he would find.   
  
Turning the corner, he found Jim waiting in the designated visitors area. He   
pounced on his detective without preamble, driven by concern and worry.   
"Ellison! Are you all right? "   
  
"I'm fine, sir."  
  
For a heartbeat, Simon wondered if he was lying. He couldn't see the other half   
of his best team anywhere nearby. *Nah,* he dismissed the thought just as   
quickly. *If Sandburg was hurt, Jim would be out of his mind already.*   
  
"Where's the kid?"  
  
"Sandburg's okay, Simon. He's with McKennitt down at the ER."  
  
"Is she hurt?" Simon asked sharply.  
  
"She got a nasty gash on her head."  
  
"Then why are you here instead of down at ER?"  
  
"Well..."   
  
Simon braced himself for the bad news when Jim unconsciously assumed the   
military at-ease stance. His best detective always did that whenever he was   
about to drop some bad news into his lap.  
  
"Spill it," he ordered roughly.  
  
Obediently, Jim gave his captain a quick run-down of the attack. Simon's scowl   
darkened at every minute as the story progressed. He glared at Jim, who was   
although tall and big, was still shorter than him. One of his few advantages   
when he has to give his best but difficult detective a dressing-down.   
  
"I thought I specifically told you and McKennitt to stay away from each other."   
  
"Simon, she needed backup on the fly. Who am I to refuse a fellow cop's   
request for aid?"  
  
"Even if the both of you can't exchange a couple of sentences without winding   
up in a fight?"  
  
Jim kept his mouth shut. There was no way he could deny that they had nearly   
quarrelled several times during the stakeout. If it hadn't been for Blair running   
interference, the stakeout would never have happen. On hindsight, that was   
probably a good idea, well worth any reprimands they would get later.   
  
"Who's the civilian?"   
  
Jim's gaze drifted to a spot behind Simon. "That one you got to ask McKennitt."  
  
Simon turned around to see both McKennitt and Blair approaching them.   
  
Unlike the others in Major Crimes, he knew precisely what he was getting when   
he approved McKennitt's transfer request to his unit. She was a good detective,   
second only to Jim. Stable, logical, and always cool-headed. Unlike Jim, who   
was the previous 'Lone Wolf', McKennitt didn't instil fear in her co-workers.   
Rather she was just cold and aloof.   
  
McKennitt's appearance was rumpled and sooty. Her hair was in a wild mess,   
partially obscuring the plaster on her forehead. Her face was very pale; her   
eyes wild with barely restrained agitation. And that sounded Simon's alarm like   
nothing else would. The detective was actually on the verge of falling apart.  
  
"Is she out yet?" she asked Jim anxiously.  
  
Jim shook her head.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Simon questioned.   
  
McKennitt distractedly ran a hand through her black hair. "I'm fine, I think."   
  
"McKennitt, who's the civilian?"  
  
"Ariel Glassner," McKennitt answered absently. She moved closer to the   
operating theatre, eyes fastened on the closed doors. "My best friend and   
partner."  
  
Partner? They exchanged baffled looks. McKennitt didn't have a partner.   
  
"God," she muttered under her breath. "it's all my fault. I shouldn't have been   
so careless."  
  
"It's not your fault." Blair countered soothingly. "No one could foreseen what   
would happen in the building."   
  
McKennitt gave a bark of humourless laughter, a cutting sound directed at   
herself.   
  
"You just got to think good thoughts, okay? The doctors are doing their best in   
there."  
  
"She tried to shield me from the blast. Her entire back is perforated with   
shrapnel from the explosion. One of her lungs was punctured. She lost too   
much blood, she flatlined twice on the way to the hospital. And you want me to   
think good thoughts?"   
  
"He meant well, McKennitt." Jim stepped in quickly before she could take her   
anger out on his partner. "Why don't you take a seat?"  
  
"I do not want to take a seat!"  
  
"That's enough," Simon's authoritative voice cut through the rising argument   
before it could get started. "Sit down, McKennitt. That's an order. And try not to   
provoke her, Ellison."  
  
"Simon, Jim doesn't mean to -" Blair's voice trailed off under the police   
captain's glare.   
  
"Don't say a word, Sandburg." Simon warned. "I don't even want to know how   
you talked him into this."  
  
"I just called 911," Blair mumbled lamely. He hushed quickly when Simon shot   
him another glare.   
  
Assured that order was restored again, Simon turned his attention to his   
detective. "Jim, you said that you received a tip-off about Robertson making an   
exchange down there."  
  
"Yeah, but the bomb wasn't directed at him. In fact, I don't think there was any   
actual exchange scheduled."  
  
"You mean it was a trap?" Blair paled. "For you?"  
  
"And possibly for McKennitt," Jim added.  
  
"What makes you think it was a trap for the both of you?" Simon asked.  
  
"Whoever he was, he was using white-noise generators."  
  
"What?" Blair gaped at his partner in shock.   
  
Jim explained what he sensed in the building. "There's no other explanation for   
it. Unless McKennitt's a Sentinel too. Which I'm not about to believe."   
  
Blair ran a hair through his hair, indication of his agitation. "Man, oh man, this is   
not good."   
  
"But how would they know that you'll be there?" Simon pointed out logically.   
"McKennitt received the tip-off this evening before asking for your help   
probably at the last minute. There's no way they could have predict that you'll   
be there."  
  
"Unless McKennitt engineered it," Blair muttered.   
  
Jim shook his head. "No, as much as I hate to admit it, McKennitt's not   
crooked. Beside when - what's her name?"  
  
"Glassner," Simon supplied.  
  
"When Glassner showed up from nowhere to rescue her, her reaction was   
genuine."   
  
Jim studied the distraught McKennitt sitting rigidly on the plastic chair some   
distance away from them. Her gaze was fixed to the floor, her fingers laced   
tightly together in her lap. Jim's expression softened. He had been in her shoes   
before, several times in fact.   
  
"Look at her. If she really engineered the whole thing, she wouldn't fall apart   
when Glassner was injured trying to protect her."   
  
"So what you're saying that someone used her to get to you," Simon realised.  
  
"More or less. I think her snitch got a lot of explaining to do."   
  
"Do you know where to find him?"   
  
"No. But she does."  
  
"Whoa, Jim." Blair was quick to stop him. "I don't think it's a good idea for you   
to approach her."  
  
Jim gave him an exasperated look. "Come on, Chief. I'm just going to ask her   
one question. I'm not going to start a quarrel."  
  
"I just don't think she's in the right mood to talk to you, big guy. Why don't you   
let me do the asking instead? Okay?"  
  
Jim sighed. "All right. I'll be listening."  
  
Blair took a deep breath and quietly sat down beside McKennitt. This close to   
her, he could see the lines of tension in her pale face. Her tightly-laced fingers   
were white.   
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.   
  
"Not good."  
  
"She'll be fine," Blair consoled. But his words sounded false even to his ears.   
"You got to believe that."   
  
McKennitt inhaled deeply, as though sucking back in her soul-deep distress.   
She forced herself to look calm, even though she was a jumble of jittery   
nerves. "What do you want, Sandburg?"  
  
"I need to know where to find your snitch."  
  
McKennitt looked at him. "You don't think my snitch's behind this, do you?"  
  
"I think your snitch has double-crossed you."  
  
She shook her head in disbelief. "After I saved his sorry ass? I'm going to kill   
him."  
  
Blair shivered at the venom in those last words. Thank God Jim was going to   
do the interrogation. He didn't want to think what would happen if McKennitt lay   
her hands on her snitch.   
  
"Can you tell us where to find him?"  
  
"Chain 'Em Hang, off Marx Road. Ask the bartender for Slip's whereabouts. He   
always knew where Slip is, even when his pub is packed. Slip has a double-  
heart tattoo on his right forearm. Keep your eyes on him while you're talking to   
him. He has a tendency to slip away when you least expect it."   
  
The OR doors swung open. McKennitt sprung to her feet when she saw Ariel   
Glassner being wheeled out. The unconscious woman was closely followed by   
a doctor wearing a blood-stained gown. McKennitt pounced on him, while the   
others gathered round.   
  
"How is she?" she demanded.  
  
"You are-"  
  
"Detective J.E. McKennitt. How is she, Doctor?"   
  
The doctor took off his surgical gloves. "She's a very lucky woman. If we hadn't   
got to her in time, her lung would have collapsed. She'll make a full recovery in   
time."   
  
"Can I see her?"  
  
"Detective, the patient will be unconscious for days. Wouldn't it better if you   
question her when she wakes up?"  
  
"I'm not here to question her," McKennitt bristled. "I'm her family."  
  
"Oh. My apologies, Detective. If you can wait until we've hooked her up in the   
ICU, I don't see why you can't see her."   
  
"I'll wait then."   
  
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me."  
  
"I thought you said she was your best friend," Simon pointed out when the   
doctor was out of earshot.  
  
"My best friend and family," McKennitt replied distractedly, looking down at her   
clothes. Under her breath, she mumbled, "I got to change my clothes. She   
doesn't like blood." She took a few steps, then paused. "Ellison?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Find the bastard."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Chain 'Em Hang, off Marx Road  
Saturday morning - 2:40am  
  
The loaner truck slid into an empty parking lot a stone's throw away from Chain   
'Em Hang. The place was still jamming, loud music spilling through the door   
opening every now and then. There was a long queue of leather-wearing   
partygoers lined outside the entrance.  
  
"Definitely not closing time yet," Blair commented from his shotgun seat. He   
turned worriedly to his partner. "You sure you don't want me to go in there with   
you? I mean, being inside a packed pub is a sure way of getting your senses   
overloaded."  
  
"I'm sure, Chief. In a crowd like that, you'll stand out like a target for them." He   
looked pointedly from the leather-clad crowd to his partner's hippie   
appearance. "Get what I mean?"  
  
Blair gulped. He got what he meant all right, and it was not a pretty picture.   
"Right. I'll stay in the truck."  
  
"Good for you."   
  
Jim got out of his loaner truck with a quiet sigh of relief. It felt good to be able   
to stretch his long legs. Blair may make his complains heard to anyone who   
care to listen and sympathise. But Jim, on the other hand, liked to think that he   
could take a little discomfort. Still, driving in a cramped loaner, especially   
without shock absorbers - was a bit much. He can't wait to get his Expedition   
back from the shop.  
  
He swiftly crossed the street towards Chain Em' Hang. Bypassing the queue,   
he headed straight for the entrance. At first the bouncer refused to let him in,   
forcing him to flash his badge.  
  
"Yeah, right." The bouncer snorted. "Do you have any idea how many fake   
badges I've seen tonight? Go line up."  
  
Jim's already stoic countenance turned even colder. "Do I look like I'm here to   
enjoy myself?"  
  
The bouncer visibly wilted under the stony glare. "Um, sorry, detective. Just   
doing my job."  
  
Jim gave him another glare for good measure and entered Chain 'Em Hang.   
With skills honed from long practice, he turned his senses down to prevent   
being overwhelmed by the congested atmosphere of the pub. It was dim and   
smoky inside Chain 'Em Hang. And the crowd...well, he don't really care all that   
much for the crowd.   
  
He was keenly aware that he stood out like a sore thumb, with his black leather   
jacket, grey sweater, dress slacks and shoes with white socks. White socks   
that had his colleagues commenting quietly when they thought he wasn't   
listening. They found the image of the tough-as-nail, hard-ass cop wearing   
dorky-coloured socks...odd.   
  
Jim firmly brought his mental wanderings to a halt. He was thankful his Guide   
was not in here. He had worked this kind of crowd before in Vice and learnt   
how to play it cool. But Blair hadn't, with all his vaunted knowledge. If he was   
here...that was something Jim didn't want to think about.   
  
He pushed his way through the crowd wearing leather in varied fashions, some   
rather explicit, to the bar. "I'm looking for Slip."  
  
"So?" the bartender grunted. "What do I look like to you?"  
  
Jim fished out a twenty and held it out with two fingers. "Someone who knows   
where he is."   
  
The bartender took the twenty. "Go straight to the back, last booth on your   
right. Man with the double-heart tattoo on right forearm. Can't miss him."   
  
The pub was deeper than it looked from outside. By the time he found the   
booth, he was deep amongst the crowd. Slip was in the booth, resting his head   
face-down on his folded arms on the table. A leather fedora was perched   
precariously on his head.   
  
Jim frowned, his cop instincts flaring up again. He extended his senses, doing   
a quick sweep over the booth. His wariness changed into alarm when he   
realised he couldn't hear a heartbeat from Slip. Springing forward, he lifted Slip   
by his shoulders. The wide unseeing eyes told him what he already knew.  
  
"Damn."   
  
***  
  
"There goes our only lead." Simon lit his cigar, wondering absently if it was   
going to be one hell of a weekend.  
  
"I smelled a trace of cyanide on his lips," Jim said, folding his arms. "Probably   
dead before he even knows it."  
  
Blair's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "I don't get it. How could someone get   
whacked in a public place, and no one notice?"   
  
Jim gestured to the leather-clad crowd watching the police at work. "These   
people were probably too wrapped up in their own business to notice someone   
getting poisoned, especially if it was done subtly."  
  
"Detective, Captain," an uniformed walked up to them, "we might have a   
witness to the murder."  
  
They followed the uniformed to one of the pub's patron, a dark-haired woman   
wearing something that made Blair wondered if it offered enough protection   
against the rainy chill of Cascade spring. Jim and Simon, seasoned cops as   
they were, didn't bat an eye.  
  
"I'm Detective Ellison," Jim introduced himself. "This is Captain Banks and my   
associate Blair Sandburg. Can you tell us what you saw?"  
  
"Well, I was at the table next to Slip's booth when this absolutely fabulous-  
looking babe walked in."  
  
"Can you describe her?"  
  
"Well, raven hair, great body. She obviously worked out. With her kind of face,   
she could've been a supermodel."   
  
"What makes you notice her beside her appearance?" Blair asked, curiosity   
getting the better of him.  
  
"Her clothes. She was wearing sweater, jeans and boots, all in black. You don't   
really find people wearing non-leather clothes in a place like this."  
  
"Was she carrying any weapons?" Jim asked.  
  
"I don't know. She was carrying this silver briefcase, though."   
  
"What did she do?"  
  
"Well, she went over to Slip's booth and sat beside him. Couldn't hear what   
they were saying, not that I bother to. I have better things to do. When I look   
again, she was gone and Slip was resting his head on the table."  
  
"Thank you," Jim said and turned back to the uniformed. "Get her statement   
down, will you?"   
  
"Could she have something to do with the explosion on Graham Street?" Simon   
pointed out as they walked away.  
  
"McKennitt's snitch fed her wrong information, we were almost killed, he was   
silenced. At this point, I'm not denying the possibility."  
  
"But why would anyone want you dead?" Blair questioned. "Could it be an old   
enemy of yours?"  
  
"Possibly. On the other hand, it could be a common enemy of mine and   
McKennitt. She was targeted as well, you know."  
  
"But this is your first time working together with her. How many enemies can   
you make since seven o'clock today?"  
  
"What about Glassner?" Simon asked. "How did she know there was a bomb in   
the building?"  
  
They fell silent. The captain had brought up a relevant point. Glassner was the   
only unknown in the equation, and she could be holding the key to the entire   
mystery.   
  
"Look like we've to make a trip back to the hospital," Jim murmured.  
  
Blair frowned. "Jim, she's in no condition to answer our questions."  
  
"But we can talk to McKennitt," Jim told him. "They seemed very close.   
McKennitt could probably tell us what she knew about Glassner."   
  
"Then get on it, Jim." Simon ordered. "I want to know who's after my detectives   
ASAP."  
  
"You got it, Simon."   
  
Simon ground out his cigar as he watched his best team trotted quickly over to   
their loaner truck. Knowing them, they would probably solve the case by   
Monday. That means, he would be on call as well for the rest of the weekend.   
He sighed, feeling a pang of regret when he realised it meant that he couldn't   
spend as much time as he wanted with his son.   
  
"Yep," he muttered to himself. "Definitely going to be one hell of a weekend."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Interlude  
  
"Marisa?"  
  
"Fillmore? What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"The Boss sent me."  
  
"What? To do my work for me?"  
  
"No, he knows better than that. I'm here to fetch something for him."  
  
"Stick to your job, runner, and I'll stick to mine."  
  
"Actually, I need your help."   
  
"Now you do."  
  
"Don't be snippy, Marisa. I know you've been working for him longer than I've   
been. That doesn't mean you should treat me like a second-class."   
  
"Can't help it, Fillmore. I'm in a bad mood. What is it you need me to help you   
with?"  
  
"I need you to lure someone away from my target."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Cascade General Hospital  
Saturday morning - 3:10am  
  
The Intensive Care Unit was very quiet in the wee hours of the night. The   
silence suited McKennitt just fine as she kept vigil over her sleeping   
companion. Her senses have finally decided once and for all to kick back on-  
line permanently. She sat there, extending her senses to monitor her   
companion's condition.   
  
Ariel looked so fragile lying in the hospital bed on her stomach. Her entire back   
was swathed in bandages. Her delicate features were turned towards her, an   
ashen contrast against her reddish-brown hair. The surgeon had to cut her   
waist-long hair that was hampering his movements during operation.   
  
Sitting beside her bed, McKennitt gently smoothed the ragged tresses from the   
pale face. Under her sensitive palm, Ariel's skin was cold. She then carefully   
cradled her limp hand, feeling the pulse beating weakly against her fingers.   
McKennitt was exhausted and thirsty from a long night and talking endlessly to   
her comatose companion. But she refused to budge, knowing just how much of   
a comfort her presence was to her.   
  
"Why are you here?" she finally asked the question that had been haunting her   
ever since they met.   
  
"I thought I specifically told you not to follow me. You have a life and a family   
back home, Ariel. You can't afford to come traipsing after me whenever the   
mood hits you."   
  
She squeezed Ariel's limp hand almost fiercely. "Damn it, pagan. Don't you   
know you can't go back home ever again? What am I talking? You never do as   
I told you, especially if you've a damned good reason not to."  
  
She squeezed Ariel's hand firmly. "Just start healing, okay? I know you're   
terribly weak right now, but take my strength. I'm here, and I'm not going   
anywhere."  
  
A faint smile crossed her face when she felt warmth sparking between their   
hands. There was a tingle in her palm as Ariel drew upon her strength.  
  
"That's it," she murmured encouragingly. "Take as much as you need, pagan."  
  
Above her, the reassuring beeping of the monitor skipped a heartbeat.   
Simultaneously, beneath her fingers, she felt Ariel's pulse did the same.   
Alarmed, she reached for the caller that would bring the nurse running. She   
stiffened when she felt an invisible feathery touch against her cheek.   
  
//Jamie...//  
  
"Ariel?"  
  
Her astonished gaze darted back to Ariel's face, but she was no longer seeing   
through her own eyes. Frozen, she was helpless to prevent the gentle tugging   
at the edge of her mind. Without warning, she was pulled from her body, and   
zipped through the hospital, down to the parking lot at a vertiginous pace. She   
came to a dizzy halt somewhere above the parking lot, and watched as   
Ellison's loaner truck pulled in. It was then she noticed something else, a   
shadow waiting amongst the shadows.   
  
"Detective?"  
  
McKennitt jumped when she felt herself being shaken. She shoved against the   
presence beside her, springing to her feet, ready to attack. She heard a   
scream before her mind caught up with reality. She blinked, realising she was   
back in the ICU. A terrified nurse cowered away from her.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled.   
  
She glanced back at Ariel still sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. A smile   
graced her stern face when she realised what had just happened, quickly   
fading as the seriousness of the situation took over.   
  
"I'll be back, pagan. Don't die on me while I'm gone."  
  
***  
  
As the loaner truck pulled into the hospital parking lot, Blair suddenly felt eyes   
watching him from behind. Turning around, he peered through the cab window,   
straining to see in the dark.  
  
Jim noticed his strange behaviour. "What's up, Chief?"  
  
"Just this really weird feeling that someone was looking at us." Blair shrugged.   
"Probably just my imagination."  
  
Jim glanced at the rear view mirror, using his senses to probe the parking lot.   
"There's no one there, Chief. Then again, with the kind of trouble you attract, I   
won't be surprised if there was."  
  
"Ha, ha. Very funny." Blair got out of the loaner, slinging his backpack over his   
shoulder. "I can't help it, can I? Especially since I have you as a partner."   
  
Jim quirked his eyebrows in mock astonishment. "Me?"  
  
"Yeah, you. You get into trouble about as often as I do. Remember Colonel   
Oliver? What about that business with Lee Brackett? Let's not forget the Juno   
case while we're at it. Man, talk about being in two places at the same time."  
  
"So we're the Trouble Magnets of Cascade. How does that make you feel?"  
  
"Truthfully? Like I'm wearing a huge target on my chest and back all the time.   
But as long as I have you, I'm not going to worry about it every moment of my   
life."  
  
Jim smiled, not the reserved Ellison smile, but a broad grin of genuine   
affectation that few people ever saw. "You got that much faith in me, squirt?"  
  
"Yeah, I do. You're my Blessed Protector, right?" Blair flashed him a megawatt   
grin.  
  
The parking lot was dark, but Jim had unconsciously compensated for the   
darkness. That was the only reason why he saw the glint of reflection from the   
corner of his eyes. Normally, that would garner a second look from him before   
he reacts. But tonight proved to be anything but normal.  
  
"Down!"   
  
Without bothering to double-check, he grabbed his Guide and shoved him to   
the ground. He heard the crack of an assault rifle and felt the spray of bullets   
whizzed past over his head, barely missing him by inches.  
  
"Shit!" Blair yelped. Together, they scrambled to hide behind the car parked   
next to the loaner truck. "Who the hell is that, man?"  
  
"Beats me." Jim ducked instinctively as shot peppered the other side of the car.   
He could feel the vibrations from each individual bullet lodging into the metal   
surface through his back. He dug out his cell phone and all but tossed it to his   
partner. "Call for backup."  
  
Blair fumbled open the cell phone and dialled the three-digit number. Jim had   
his gun out and he was listening for the pause in the gunfire, indicating that the   
shooter was reloading.   
  
*That's it.*  
  
Jim twisted around, rising to his knees, and let loose his return fire. Being a   
crack shot, he had no trouble aiming for the shooter. He heard a startled gasp,   
muffled by the distance, and the sound of someone tumbling to the ground.   
Automatically, he looked in that direction, easily piercing through the darkness   
with his Sentinel sight.   
  
He saw a raven-haired woman in black picking herself up from the ground. Jim   
recognised her from the description the pub patron had given him. One of her   
arms hung uselessly by her side. Her assault rifle rested on top of a car and   
she was attempting to reach for it.  
  
"No, you don't." he growled.  
  
He realigned and fired again. This time close to her reaching hand. She hastily   
pulled it back again. He fired a few more shots for good measure, before   
ducking back down.   
  
"Backup's on the way," Blair informed him. He flinched and hastily covered his   
ears again when gunshots split the night again. It took him a moment to realise   
that whoever it was wasn't firing at them. "That was fast."  
  
Jim risked a look over the car's truck again. "It's not the backup, Chief. It's   
McKennitt."   
  
The other detective was advancing towards the shooter from the direction of   
the hospital. It didn't take him long to figure out how to pin the shooter down.   
  
"Marisa!" McKennitt shouted from her cover. "Drop your weapon right now!"  
  
"Not in this lifetime, Ellison!"  
  
Ellison? Both Jim and Blair looked at each other with similar expression of   
bewilderment.  
  
"I thought her last name's McKennitt," Blair whispered.  
  
"We'll figure that out later." Jim risked another look over the top of the car.   
"Stay here, Chief."   
  
Blair watched anxiously as Jim crept from his cover and noiselessly detoured   
around to advance on Marisa's blind side. He cautiously peeked above the   
car's truck, but in the dim lighting, he couldn't see much of anything.   
  
At least we got a name to match the face, he thought irrelevantly.   
  
"You hurt either of them, and you'll pay for it!" McKennitt was yelling.  
  
Marisa laughed, an ugly sound. "I do my job right, you won't even have time to   
say goodbye."  
  
Blair shivered. Whoever the shooter was, she was clearly dangerous and   
apathetic. Not the choice of word he cared to use, but it described her best. He   
suddenly stiffened. From past experiences, he knew the hard coldness digging   
lightly into his neck could only belong to one thing.   
  
"Don't move," said a quiet voice very close behind his ear. "Come with me   
quietly and I won't hurt you."  
  
Blair gulped. "All right, all right. Take it easy, man. I'm not going to run."  
  
"Good. Oh, by the way, my name's Fillmore. Nice to meet you, Professor   
Sandburg."  
  
"Too bad I can't say the same," Blair replied through suddenly dry lips. "You   
can just call me 'Sandburg' though. I haven't earn that PH.D yet."  
  
"I'm afraid not. You see, the Boss instructed me to treat you with the utmost   
courtesy. That involves the mode of address. Now do come along with me,   
Professor."  
  
"Right."   
  
Blair obediently did as he was told. As he was led to a waiting ambulance - of   
all things - he whispered a Sentinel-soft plea to the air.   
  
"Jim, help me."   
  
***   
  
All the skunking skills Jim learned in the Army had not gone to waste when he   
joined Cascade PD. And it certainly served him well now, as he stealthily crept   
up to the shooter from behind her. The shooter, with all her attention focused   
on McKennitt, never sensed his approach.   
  
"Freeze." Marisa did freeze, hearing the telltale click behind her. "Now turn   
around. Slowly."  
  
She turned, her pale almost colourless eyes glaring daggers at him. Jim frisked   
her efficiently, relieving her of the two magnum 44s. she was packing.   
  
"Nice weapons," he commented. "Too bad you won't be needing them where   
you're going."  
  
"Jim, help me." The soft plea reached Jim's ears.  
  
"Blair?" Distracted, Jim made the mistake of taking his gaze away for an   
instance.   
  
Marisa struck, her leg kicking upward, connecting solidly with his gun hand.   
Jim grunted, feeling his entire wrist go numb, but he still held on tightly to his   
gun. She struck again, this time sweeping a roundhouse kick right into his face   
before he could block it.   
  
Jim staggered, falling backward from Marisa advancing towards him. From the   
corner of his eyes, he saw McKennitt tackling the woman, landing on Marisa   
like the proverbial ton of bricks. The detective was angry and she let it showed   
through the punches she threw.   
  
Hoping that McKennitt would be able to keep the perp in line, Jim got up and   
dashed across the parking lot to where his Guide was being held. In the   
distance, he saw Blair being shoved into the back of an ambulance.  
  
"Jim! Help!"   
  
Blair struggled to break free, but his kidnapper hit him once over the head.   
Limp and unconscious, he was bundled unceremoniously into the ambulance.  
  
"SANDBURG!"   
  
The ambulance screeched as it thundered down the parking lot, tires   
screeching. Jim skidded to a halt directly in its path and opened fire. The   
careening vehicle showed no sign of slowing down, and at the very last   
moment, the Sentinel had no choice but to leap clear of danger. Rolling to   
break his momentum, he was up on his feet in a heartbeat. His eyes never left   
the speeding ambulance as he sprinted through the parking lot, hoping to cut it   
off at the entrance.  
  
The ambulance came to a screeching halt and someone jumped out, racing   
towards McKennitt still grappling with Marisa. Taken by surprise, McKennitt   
could not defend herself from the sneak blow to her back. She staggered,   
falling when she was punched in the stomach.   
  
Jim poured on more speed, determined to reach the ambulance before it speed   
off again. He hastily threw himself behind some parked cars when Marisa   
scooped up oen of her magnums and fired in his direction. When he got up again,   
they had boarded the ambulance and it was pulling out of the parking lot   
burning rubber.   
  
Raging and panting, Jim could only watch helplessly as the hijacked   
ambulance sped away with his Guide in it. In the distance, he could hear   
backup arriving. Late, as always.   
  
"Damn," McKennitt wheezed as she painfully climbed to her feet, still bent   
double over with pain.   
  
Jim finally turned his attention to her, giving her a helping hand. "Are you hurt   
badly?"   
  
"No. They got Sandburg, didn't they?" It was more of a statement than a   
question.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"They also kidnapped someone else." Jim looked at her meaningfully, waiting   
for the realisation to sink in. "I caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair before   
the doors close."  
  
McKennitt paled. "Ariel."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Interlude  
  
"We got them, Boss. They are now in a safe location."  
  
"Excellent. Is Sandburg unhurt?"  
  
"Well...I did have to knock him out a bit. For a small guy, he struggles a lot. But   
he'll be all right. The woman still lives. But I don't know for how much longer."  
  
"It doesn't matter. I only need her alive for a short while."   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Somewhere in Cascade  
Saturday - time unknown  
  
The first thing Blair felt when he regained consciousness was the dull throbbing   
at the back of his head. Next thing he was aware of was the cot he was lying   
on. He slowly sat up, gingerly feeling the bump on the back of his head.  
  
*Ow,* he winced. *That's a large bump I've got.*  
  
His head swam when he was finally upright and settled down into a dull   
headache somewhere behind his eyes. His body, though stiff, was not bruised   
or hurt in any way.  
  
The room was stark, windowless and clean, lit only by a naked bulb. His cot,   
though narrow and uncomfortable, was also clean. He got up stiffly and walked   
over to the heavy metal door. He rattled the doorknob but it was locked as   
expected.   
  
Blair sighed and leaned against the door, taking several deep cleansing   
breaths to clear his mind. He heard a soft steady beeping and realised abruptly   
he was not alone. There was someone else in the room as well, lying in an   
identical cot on the other side of the room.   
  
Blair frowned when he saw the medical set-up surrounding the second cot. To   
his utmost chagrin, he could actually tell that the array of medical equipment,   
though resembling those in the ICU, was nowhere even close to the   
sophistication found in a hospital. He had spent way too much time in the   
hospital.   
  
But who would need all these equipment in the first place? Curious, he went   
closer to the cot. His eyes widened when he recognised the occupant.  
  
*Ariel Glassner? What the heck is she doing here?*   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Major Crimes, Cascade PD  
Saturday - 7am  
  
"Hey, Jim?"   
  
The detective wearily raised his head from his desk. Joel Taggart winced in   
sympathy at his unshaven and haggard appearance. Even though it was a   
Saturday morning, everyone in Major Crimes had heard about the double   
kidnapping. Taggart was one of them, and he decided to forego his first off-day   
in two weeks to help Jim. After all, he was among their closest friends, and he   
knew the detective could use all the support he could get.   
  
Taggart gave him a thin brown folder. "The report on the shoot-out at the   
hospital parking lot."   
  
"What does it say?"   
  
"Forensics found slugs from your gun, the assault rifle and a magnum 44.   
There was no fingerprints on either the assault rifle and the remaining magnum   
44 left on the scene. They did find traces of blood, but without a suspect to   
match, it's useless."  
  
"A dead end," Jim interpreted.  
  
"That about sums it up. We also questioned the hospital staff, especially those   
on duty in the ICU. The nurse wasn't at her station when it happened, and no   
one else on the night shift noticed when Glassner was taken."   
  
"Surely someone must have seen them leaving, Joel." Jim insisted. "The   
hospital's mostly quiet at night. A patient being wheeled down the corridor must   
have attracted some attention."  
  
"If the kidnappers did masquerade as nurses wheeling a patient through the   
hospital, no one saw them."   
  
"What about security cameras?"  
  
"It would take some time for the hospital security to release the tapes." Taggart   
paused, then decided to take the plunge. "Where's McKennitt?"  
  
Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache acting up again. "She's   
getting the forensics report on the explosion."  
  
"The two of you are primary on this case?"   
  
"Surprised?" Jim asked wryly.  
  
"You can say that, Jim. Don't mind me saying, but you two don't seem able to   
get along without starting a fight."  
  
"We got added incentive to call a truce," Jim responded acerbically.  
  
Taggart leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Just to let you know,   
there's a bet going to see how long it'll take before you two call it quits."  
  
A glimmer of humour brightened Jim's glacial eyes, as he knew it would. "So   
how much is my co-operation worth to you?"   
  
Taggart looked at him innocently. "What makes you think I'll bet on such a   
thing?" Then he turned serious. "Jim, if you need any help, just tell me, okay?"  
  
"I will. And thanks, Joel."  
  
"You're welcomed, Jim."  
  
As Taggart headed back to his desk, Jim flipped open the folder and scanned   
through the report. A frown of frustration knitted his brows.   
  
It was impossible to believe that they couldn't identify the woman named   
Marisa. They have her name, her face and even a sample of her blood. Yet a   
ran through the police database and DMV turned up nothing. It was as though   
she didn't exist.   
  
Another brown folder landing on his desk caught his attention.   
  
He looked up to see McKennitt standing before his desk. She had freshened   
herself, but it could not hide her pain and exhaustion. She was holding herself   
up at a slightly peculiar angle, evidence of the brutal beating she had taken   
from Marisa.   
  
"Forensic report from the explosion," she explained.   
  
Jim gestured for her to take Blair's chair. "Anything?"   
  
McKennitt shook her head, gingerly folding her body into the chair. She let out   
an involuntary sigh of relief at the support beneath her.  
  
"Not really. The building literally collapsed into a pile of rubbles," she finally   
answered. "It would take some time for the Bomb Squad to separate the bomb   
fragments from the building. I'm thinking of letting Taggart take a look at it   
though."  
  
McKennitt spotted the other folder on Jim's desk. "Is that the report on the   
shoot-out?"  
  
Jim silently passed her the folder. He watched her covertly as she read the   
report, discreetly monitoring her body responses. He refused to believe that   
Marisa didn't exist because McKennitt sure as hell recognised her. That much   
he gathered from their shouted conversation in the parking lot. He had a   
suspicion that McKennitt knew what was going on.   
  
"There's something I don't understand about this case," he began casually.   
  
"And what's that?" McKennitt asked, still reading the report.  
  
"Why do all the clues lead to one conclusion."  
  
"Aren't clues supposed to do that?"  
  
Jim continued as though he had not heard her. "That you know what's going   
on."   
  
Triumph rose in Jim when he detected her heartbeat speeding up even though   
she appeared unfazed outwardly. Score one for him. She did know what was   
going on. But when she finally looked at him, her expression remained calm.  
  
"What are you trying to say?" she asked in a measured voice.  
  
Jim leaned forward. "I'm saying that you know who the hell took Sandburg and   
Glassner."  
  
"I'm as much in the dark as you are."   
  
"Bullshit," Jim snapped. "You know a lot more than you let on, McKennitt. I   
want you to tell me."  
  
"I have enough of this." McKennitt stood up, wincing at the twinge of pain in her   
flank. "Don't make accusations you can't prove. I don't take kindly to it."   
  
Jim doggedly followed her as she crossed the bullpen to her desk.   
  
All around them, people scurried to give them plenty of room. They could all   
feel a storm brewing, a storm involving Jim and McKennitt. Their last   
confrontation still fresh in their minds, nobody wants to be near when the two   
clash again.   
  
"I heard the conversation in the parking lot. Who is Marisa? How come a   
criminal of her calibre doesn't exist in the records?"   
  
"You're asking me?"  
  
Jim grabbed her arm and roughly yanked her to a stop. "Yeah, I'm asking you.   
My partner's life's at risk, damn it."  
  
McKennitt glared back at him, chin jutting out defiantly. "In case you haven't   
notice, Ellison, they took my partner as well."  
  
"Glassner? Who is she, McKennitt? How did she know about the bomb in that   
building? Is she behind this as well?"  
  
Fury flared in her dark eyes. McKennitt shook off his grasp and stepped right   
up to him, almost nose-to-nose.   
  
"You leave her out of this, Ellison." She hissed angrily. "In case you haven't   
notice, she almost died warning us about that bomb."  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim knew it was a low blow. But the   
Sentinel in him was much too worked up with worry and fear about his Guide,   
and he threw caution to the wind. His cold stare bore into McKennitt,   
undaunted by the rising hostility he saw in her.  
  
"Could be the plan backfired on her." Jim's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding a lot   
of things, McKennitt. One might think you're one of them."  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
Jim's reply was swift and to the point. "Not before you tell me what you know."  
  
That was the last straw. McKennitt's tenuous hold on her rage broke.   
  
"Tell you what?!" she yelled into his face. "That these people want you dead?!   
That they are holding the ones we love as a safeguard against us?! That our   
hands are tied?! Is that what you want me to tell you?!"  
  
Dead silence descended in the bullpen. Everyone froze, looking on with   
nervous fascination. No one move as both detectives locked glares in a battle   
of wills. The tension in the bullpen rose another notch.  
  
"Why do they want me dead?" Jim continued, his voice stony.  
  
"Back off, Ellison." McKennitt warned. "There're some things you're better off   
not knowing."  
  
But Jim was persistent and hard-headed. He doesn't give up easily, especially   
when it was his Guide's life on the line, especially when he sensed that she   
knew more than she was letting on. He reached out to grab her arm again.   
  
This time, McKennitt lashed out. The brown folder dropped to the floor, as she   
whipped around like a snake. Slapping away his outstretched grasp, her fist   
shot out like a battering ram and cracked him soundly on the jaws. Things got   
messy from there onwards.   
  
"Jesus!" Taggart saw what was happening and dashed over, as did half of the   
staff in the bullpen. "Cut it out!"  
  
Everyone, realising that things had got way out of control, rushed to separate   
the two combatants. It took three of them to forcibly restrain Jim and two for   
McKennitt.  
  
"Easy, Jim. Easy now," Taggart soothed. "Think about Sandburg. He need you   
in one piece."  
  
Taggart's words got through to the big detective, as he hoped it would. Jim   
took a deep breath, stomping on the angry red haze threatening to overwhelm   
him. He silently berated himself for losing control in such a spectacular fashion.   
God, he going berserk ain't going to help Sandburg in the slightest.   
  
McKennitt, on the other hand, looked ready to tear his throat out if she wasn't   
restrained. The glint in her eyes was feral, as she glared at him. Poor Rafe   
looked as though he wished he was somewhere else instead.  
  
Jim heard a disapproving growl. Blinking, he looked down and saw a sight he   
never thought he would see. He blinked again in astonishment.  
  
Two black panthers occupied the distance separating him from McKennitt. He   
recognised the one closest to him as his Spirit Guide. But the other...either he   
was hallucinating from a total lack of sleep, or he was seeing a second Spirit   
Guide.   
  
What the hell...?  
  
Jim closed his eyes, certain that he was going mad. Then he looked again. His   
Spirit Guide growled again, staring at him straight in the eyes. There was a   
message in those yellow orbs. A message for him, which Jim had no idea what   
it was about. He was definitely not in the mood for some mystical advice from   
an imaginary animal.  
  
He glanced around, hoping that no one else could see the two animals in the   
bullpen. No one else did...except for McKennitt. She was having a staring   
competition with the other Spirit Guide. Like a faucet being turned off, her   
maddened fury suddenly dissipated to be replaced by a despairing fear as she   
averted her gaze away from the imaginary animal. The second panther then   
nodded its head, grunting approvingly.   
  
"What the hell is going on in here?!"   
  
Simon's familiar bellow drove all thoughts of Spirit Guides from Jim's mind. He   
straightened immediately, pulling his stone-cold mask in place. Likewise,   
McKennitt swiftly gathered herself, shaking off the helping hands. She stood   
ramrod straight, not looking at anyone in particular.  
  
Simon scowled menacingly, as he took in the tableau. It didn't take him long to   
put together what had just happened. He stabbed a finger in Jim's and   
McKennitt's directions respectively.   
  
"The both of you in my office. Now!"  
  
*** 


	2. Converging - Part 2

Simon glared at his detectives from behind his desk, neither of whom were   
willing to speak up. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't suspend the   
both of you!"   
  
There was no answer.  
  
Jim stood stiffly at attention in front of his desk, hands behind his back, eyes   
forward. His five o'clock stubble was testimony to a long sleepless night, and   
his clenching jaws only indication of his anger. His stance was mirrored by   
McKennitt, whose own stony face and almost identical pose made his office   
seemed all that much smaller. At this point, the near resemblance between   
them was downright eerie.  
  
Simon always knew they were going to be a handful ever since he caught wind   
of their notorious first meeting. He recognised in McKennitt qualities that made   
Jim such a great cop. But when it came to interacting, these qualities seemed   
more like a curse than anything else. The confrontation he had walked into   
didn't come as a surprise to him. He just wished it hadn't been in the bullpen. It   
would make it that much harder to keep things under wrap.  
  
"I know the both of are you are worried like hell right now, but starting a fight in   
the station isn't the way to get them back! Now I want an explanation and it has   
better be good."   
  
Stoic silence for a long moment as they refused to meet his eyes.  
  
Then McKennitt sighed, grudgingly ceding ground first. "It's my fault, sir. I threw   
the first punch. I lost my temper."  
  
"And I bet you were being too hard on her, am I right?" Simon growled at his   
best detective.  
  
"She was holding back vital information, sir."  
  
"Is that true, McKennitt?" Simon questioned sharply.  
  
"No, sir." McKennitt replied promptly. "If I have information pertaining to the   
investigation, I would have share it with Detective Ellison sooner or later."   
  
"Key word being sooner." Jim spoke without relaxing his military stance.   
"Though I doubt you will."  
  
"Are you calling me a liar?"   
  
"Enough!" Simon barked, curbing the rising argument before it could take off.   
  
He took a deep breath, calming his own temper. Time to dish out the   
ultimatum.   
  
"If the both of you can't work together on this case, I'll make Rafe and Brown   
primary and put the two of you on desk duty. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
There was no answer from either of them. Which was just as well. Simon didn't   
trust them to start talking without descending into another fight.  
  
"Now I want the both of you to go home. You've been up all day and night. Get   
a few hours' rest, sleep, eat, whatever. I don't want to see your faces until   
you're properly rested."  
  
"But sir —" McKennitt started to protest.  
  
"That's an order, Detective."  
  
McKennitt shut up, knowing it was useless to argue. But the sullen set to her   
face spoke clearly of her dislike of the order.   
  
"Now get out of here."  
  
McKennitt threw open the door and stormed out into the bullpen. Jim was a few   
steps behind, slamming shut Simon's door with a resounding bang.   
  
Simon watched, as did everyone in the bullpen, as they left for home, warily   
watching each other. He wondered morbidly how many times he has to play   
peacemaker before they finally rescue the hostages.  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Somewhere in Cascade  
Saturday - time unknown  
  
Blair had no idea where he was. His watch had been taken while he was   
unconscious, so his concept of time was a little skewed. He only knew   
somewhere in the past fifteen minutes - or was it an hour? - a tray of food was   
pushed through a narrow slot at the bottom of the door.   
  
It was hot oatmeal, an apple and a glass of water. That itself was surprising.   
Not that he was such a big fan of oatmeal, but the fact that his kidnappers had   
taken pains to feed him nourishing food told him he was important to them...at   
least for the moment.  
  
His cell-mate was a different matter completely. It didn't take a genius to know   
Ariel required constant medical care, and what was available wasn't enough to   
keep her stabilised for long. But until now, no one had come to check on her   
well-being.   
  
Being the kind-hearted person he was, Blair appointed himself as her nurse.   
First thing he did was to carefully turned her onto her stomach. He was no   
medic, but he figured since it was her back that took the brunt of the explosion,   
it made better sense this way. For the nth time, he checked the vital-signs   
monitor, easily deciphering the readouts.   
  
"Well, it says here that you're still stable." He told the sleeping Ariel before   
sitting down beside her cot. "That's good news. Means I don't have handle   
emergency anytime soon."   
  
"I still don't understand why they kidnapped you," Blair said conversationally.   
"No offence, but a critically wounded person don't exactly make the best   
hostage. More risk than it's worth. Beside, what kind of kick would they get out   
of it?"   
  
Blair glanced at her somewhat enviously.   
  
"You're literally sleeping through all the excitement. Man, if only I could do   
that." He patted her limp hand. "Just hang in there, okay? My partner, Jim, he's   
a cop. Before you know it, he'll come charging to our rescue. He always does."   
  
He sighed and propped his chin up on his palm, idly thinking about the last   
time he was in trouble and needed rescuing from his Blessed Protector. Then   
he recalled hearing rumours at the station about a bet involving him.  
  
"I wonder who won the pool at the station," he mused.   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
852 Prospect, Cascade  
Saturday - 10:00am  
  
Jim felt much calmer after a hot shower and a decent breakfast. However, he   
still couldn't get to sleep. He spent a full hour tossing about in bed before   
giving up. He was too wound up, worrying about his kidnapped roommate. He   
just couldn't get it out of his head that somehow McKennitt holds part of the   
answer to the mystery.  
  
So preoccupied he was with his thoughts, he almost missed the knocking on   
the front door. His scowl immediately deepened when he recognised the   
heartbeat outside his loft.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped the moment he opened the   
door.   
  
McKennitt returned his glare calmly, unfazed by the fact that he knew she was   
there without looking. From the looks of her rumpled and weary appearance, it   
was clear that she hadn't rested well either.   
  
"You said you want answers," she replied. "Well, I got some of the answers. Do   
you want to hear what I have to say?"  
  
Biting back a caustic retort, Jim allowed her to enter the loft. McKennitt looked   
around, taking in the comfortable decor.  
  
"So this is how the loft looks like," she remarked. "Nice place."  
  
"You're a Sentinel, aren't you? I saw your Spirit Guide back at the station."   
  
McKennitt sighed. "Yes, I'm a Sentinel. Full-fledged. And Ariel's my Guide."  
  
"What else are you hiding?"  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
Jim folded his arms implacably. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Ellison, whatever we say here remains inside these four walls. No one else   
must know about it. Do we have a deal?"  
  
Jim studied her, noting how she stood unflinchingly under his hard stare. She   
was not in a combative mood, that much he could tell. Rather, she seemed   
anxious on gaining his co-operation.  
  
"Deal."  
  
McKennitt took off her trench coat and sat down at the dining table, gathering   
her thoughts. Where to begin? It was all so complicated. There was no way   
she could tell him about the case without letting the truth slip. And frankly, she   
was tired of concealing the truth.   
  
From within the depths of her trench coat, she took out a wallet and tossed it   
onto the dining table.   
  
"That's my wallet I came to Cascade with twelve years ago. Look through it."  
  
Warily, Jim flipped through the brown wallet, wondering just what she was up   
to.   
  
The wallet itself felt different beneath his sensitive fingertips, it seemed made   
from something that looked very much like leather or PVC, but felt like cotton.   
Jim had never come across anything quite like it.   
  
There was a driver's licence in it, several other ID cards as well. All of them   
were made from clear thin hard - silicon? he couldn't tell - and possessed a thin   
silvery strip on the back. McKennitt's picture was on every one of these cards,   
except it wasn't a photograph or printed on.   
  
Jim looked closer, using his Sentinel sight to discern the differences.   
  
The colours that made up McKennitt's image was worked into the silicon itself.   
The thumbprint was etched into the surface, as though she had pressed her   
thumb against the silicon while it was still soft. Jim studied the small prints. His   
blood ran cold when he saw the name and the date of birth.  
  
"Jamie...Ellison?"  
  
McKennitt looked at him steadily. For the first time, Jim abruptly realised why   
she always seemed so aloof and distant from everyone else. It was because   
she was keeping a secret, the kind of secret that could change the world.  
  
"That's right. That's what the J.E. stands for. McKennitt is just a cover name."   
  
McKennitt, no, Jamie Ellison, took a step closer to him. Her dark eyes were   
intense as she dropped the bombshell.   
  
"I'm your granddaughter."   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Somewhere in Cascade  
Saturday - time unknown  
  
Blair didn't know what woke him.   
  
One minute he was soundly asleep in the chair beside Ariel's cot, the next   
minute he was awake and alert. Then he realised it was the sensation of being   
watched that woke him.   
  
Looking down, he saw that Ariel had regained consciousness and she was   
staring at him with drug-glazed eyes the colour of dark blue.  
  
"Hi, you're awake." Blair quickly checked her vital signs monitor again. All was   
well. "How do you feel? According to this, you're doing okay, except I don't   
know how long that would last. Are you thirsty? You must be. Here. I managed   
to save some water for you."  
  
Carefully propping her up slightly, he poured a bit of the water into her parched   
mouth. Her drugged haze clearing, Ariel swallowed, welcoming the cool relief.   
  
"Sorry. I guess that's a bit too much," Blair apologised when she abruptly   
regurgitated the water.  
  
With the sleeve of his shirt, he cleaned her up and made her comfortable on   
the cot again. Throughout his ministrations, her gaze never wavered from him.   
It was downright unnerving.   
  
"Um, I'm Blair Sandburg." He blurted out, trying to break the awkward moment.   
"I guess you can see by now that we're not in a hospital."  
  
//Why?// came the whisper.  
  
"We've been kidnapped," Blair answered, oblivious to what had happened. "I   
don't know who they are, or what they want with me or you, but they're planning   
something, that's for sure. But don't worry, my best friend Jim's a cop. He'll   
come for us pretty soon."  
  
//Jim...Ellison?//  
  
"You heard of him? Cool!" Blair grinned at her. His grin abruptly faded when he   
realised belatedly what was happening. "Wait a minute. You're talking...in my   
head?!"  
  
//Telepathy...an acquired skill...for Shamans.//  
  
Blair gaped at her, mouth hitting the floor. Telepathy? Shamans? And Jim   
thought he was so into the New Age stuff. He worked his throat, but no sound   
came forth. Gulping, he tried again.   
  
"Is that what you did at Graham Street?"   
  
//Yes...//  
  
"Who are you?" he whispered.  
  
Ariel's dark blue eyes were calm as they held his stunned gaze.   
  
//I'm...your granddaughter.//   
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
857 Prospect, Cascade  
Saturday - 10:30am  
  
Jim sat down heavily on the coach, head swimming as the reassuring world -   
no, reality - was yanked from beneath his feet, sending him tumbling head over   
heels.   
  
"You are my granddaughter," he repeated.  
  
McKennitt, seated comfortably in the coach next to his, nodded solemnly.   
  
"And Ariel Glassner is Blair Sandburg's granddaughter," he said slowly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You guys are from the future?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jim sprang up from the coach and began to pace, feeling as though he had   
entered the Sandburg Zone - no, more like the Twilight Zone. He'll bet an entire   
month worth of visits to Wonder Burger that things never got this surreal in the   
Sandburg Zone.   
  
Wasn't it enough that he, ex-Army Ranger and now Cascade cop, had to   
grapple with the everyday criminal elements of Cascade, plus the pros and   
cons of being a Sentinel? Whose bright idea was it to throw in a couple of   
science-fiction twists? He never did liked those shows.   
  
Jim stopped pacing and glared down at his unwanted visitor. "I don't have a   
granddaughter. Even if I do, she won't be as old as I am!"  
  
"I know this is difficult to believe, but you got to." McKennitt got up from the   
coach and stepped into his personal space.   
  
"You're a Sentinel. Use those lie-detecting skills on me, prove that I'm lying.   
You know every member of a family has got a distinctive scent that marks them   
as close blood-related. What does my scent tells you?"  
  
Jim upped his senses and probed her. Her heartbeat was beating slightly   
faster, but that was due to her rising temper. She didn't smell of fear or   
nervousness. His eyes narrowed, zeroing in to her scent.   
  
Jim Ellison, the man, had no idea how his own scent smells like. In the words   
of his Guide, he was oblivious to the workings of his own body, unless it was   
by a conscious effort. Neither did he had any idea how his descendants would   
smell like. But Jim Ellison, the Sentinel, knew with the special senses and   
instincts that were throwbacks to the primitive humans.   
  
Close blood-related relatives do smell similar. Like Simon and Daryl, Naomi   
and Blair. McKennitt smells familiar, like...Steven? No, his gut instincts told   
him. What his granddaughter should smell like, if he ever got around to starting   
a family.  
  
"Now do you believe me?" she asked, seeing the change in his expression.  
  
Jim turned away, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This was downright bizarre.   
  
"So you are my granddaughter," he admitted none too graciously. "I assume   
you time-travelled back, huh?"  
  
McKennitt sat down again, clearly relieved that he believed her. Privately, she   
was surprised he believed her story so quickly. From the stories her   
granduncle had told her, her grandfather wasn't exactly the most open-minded   
man in Cascade.   
  
"I'll try to explain as best as I can. In 2060, I'm a cop in Cascade PD. Yes, a   
cop." She responded wryly to his startled expression. "The Ellisons have   
always been either businessmen or law enforcers."  
  
"And Ariel?"  
  
"She's the department profiler and my partner. No surprise there, since she's   
my Guide."   
  
"In October 2060, I was sought out by the FBI for a deep undercover mission.   
My job is to infiltrate an underground organisation led by someone who only   
identified himself as the Boss. We have no idea who he is, or how he looks   
like, only that he's taking over the entire criminal world in Cascade at an   
alarming rate. My job is to gather as much information as possible before we   
bust him."  
  
"During my investigation, I discover that the Boss isn't all that much interested   
in establishing his power in just Cascade. He wants to spread his influence   
across the entire criminal underworld of the States."  
  
"Very ambitious," Jim noted.  
  
"Yes, he is that. However, by 2060, the States has become a very different   
place. The country has fragmented politically because of the Third World War.   
There's hardly any interstate communication, so it'll be useless for him to fulfil   
his ambition in that time frame. The only solution is to travel back in time   
before Third World War ever happen and start from there. With his knowledge   
of what's to come, it'll be easy for him."   
  
"And he just so happened to conveniently stumble across a time machine   
somewhere?" Jim asked sarcastically.   
  
McKennitt rolled her eyes heavenward. "No. He stole the prototype Time-Gate   
from the NASA Labs."  
  
"Time-Gate?" Jim repeated incredulously. "As in Stargate?"  
  
"Similar, but different. It's not the most original name anyone could come up   
with, but that prototype could warp time as easily as stretching a rubber band.   
The Boss stole the Time-Gate and programmed it to send him and his right-  
hand man Marisa back to the year 1988 in order to assassinate you."  
  
"Why do they want to kill me?" Jim could not understand. "Why not on my birth   
day? Why 1988?"  
  
"Because of the Time-Gate's limitation of seventy-two years. Anyone travelling   
further back than seventy-two years into the past always wind up dead from the   
transit. And 1988 is the furthest time destination allowed...and also the perfect   
time frame for them to murder you. You would have already crashed in Peru.   
You would have buried your team, leaving yourself all alone in the jungle. You   
would have be injured and lost, your Sentinel abilities have not resurfaced. You   
would have be vulnerable to them."   
  
Jim folded his arms across his broad chest. "But they didn't succeed,   
obviously. Because of you, right?"  
  
"Yes. I time-travelled back and intercepted them before they could get to La   
Montana. I thought I had finished them off at Lima. Looks like I was wrong."  
  
"You haven't answer my first question yet. Why do they want to kill me?"  
  
"Because in this time frame, you're the only real obstacle in their way. You and   
Professor Sandburg."  
  
"Blair?"  
  
"Yes. The both of you are quite famous in my time because of your crime-  
fighting exploits. The Boss knows about your Sentinel capabilities and   
Sandburg's talents. He knows if anyone even had a chance of thwarting his   
plans in this time frame, it would be the two of you."   
  
"So you were sent to protect me from him?" McKennitt nodded. Jim proceeded   
to ask, "What about Blair? Did he have anyone protecting him?"  
  
She looked apologetic. Jim didn't like that expression at all. "We...didn't think it   
was necessary."  
  
"What?" He scowled at her. "You claim to know so much about us. How come   
it didn't occur to you that hurting Sandburg is a sure fire of getting to me?"   
  
"We miscalculated," she replied defensively. "We honestly didn't think he   
would put Sandburg in danger. Even Ariel thought her grandfather would be   
safe from that maniac."  
  
McKennitt thought about it. "Maybe that's why she made the transit. Conditions   
must have changed back home - the Professor killed by the Boss, or I've failed,   
I don't know. I only know the situation's probably so bad that she has no choice   
but to come and warn me."   
  
"Well, she did warned us in time - barely." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose   
again, trying to process what she had just told him.   
  
A new thought occurred to him. "Okay, here's something I don't get. You've   
spent the past - what, twelve years?" At her nod, he continued, "You've spent   
the past twelve years living in my time. Why? Couldn't you just travel back to   
your time?"  
  
"I would if I could. Time-travelling technology is still in its infancy. Right now,   
it's a one-way ticket to the past."  
  
"So you're basically stuck here?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Another question. How did you manage to survive all these years without a   
Guide?"   
  
"I suppressed my Sentinel abilities right after the Lima fiasco in 1985. That's   
how I kept my sanity intact. But ever since Ariel arrives, all my senses have   
kicked in permanently."   
  
She sighed tiredly, running both hands through her shoulder-length hair. "I don't   
like what has happened. Kidnapping both our Guides. It makes me antsy."  
  
"I can tell." Jim wryly rubbed his jaw. "That was one hell of a punch you threw   
back at the station."  
  
"Sorry." McKennitt looked contrite. "Didn't mean to lose my cool like that."  
  
The cordless phone rang, breaking the tentative truce inside the loft. Both   
Sentinels looked at the phone, then at each other, the same thought running   
through their minds. On the second ring, Jim snatched it up.  
  
"Ellison."  
  
Silence for a moment, then a woman's voice spoke. "Good morning, Detective   
Ellison. I hope you have a good night's rest."  
  
Jim's hackles raised at the sultry voice. "Where's Sandburg?"  
  
"He's safe. Don't worry, we're not in the business of hurting your Guide. In fact   
we prefer him healthy."  
  
"What do you want, Marisa?"  
  
Marisa laughed. "Good guess, Detective. No doubt McKennitt has told you   
about me. Has she mention our mutual history?"  
  
"I said what do you want?" Jim nimbly avoided the question.  
  
"This isn't about what I want, but about what does my Boss want." Marisa's   
voice turned businesslike. "Be at the Cascade Water Treatment Plant tonight at   
nine o'clock. We'll bring Sandburg and Glassner, you bring McKennitt. Just the   
two of you. We spot any other cops in the area, Glassner dies."  
  
"We'll be there."  
  
"And we'll be waiting."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Somewhere in Cascade  
Saturday - time unknown  
  
Imprisonment had given Blair a lot of time to think about what Ariel had told   
him before fever made her incoherent.  
  
Granddaughters? From the future? A future Sentinel?   
  
Blair's mind reeled from the implications. It changed everything he ever   
believed about the cosmos in general. The future. Wow! A whole different   
society with different set of values and social norms because of the time frame.   
It was an anthropologist's dream come true.   
  
He sobered when his gaze rested upon the sleeping Ariel. At least now he   
knows why Jim and McKennitt did not get along.  
  
Two Sentinels in the same territory that belonged to one of them. Although he   
was sure McKennitt wasn't here to take away Jim's territory - in fact he   
believed her aim was just to live as peacefully as possible - their Sentinel   
instincts hadn't allowed it.  
  
Burton's study came to mind. The dead explorer did not place much emphasis   
on it, but Blair now realised why every tribe only have one Sentinel. Sentinels   
were, by genetic traits, loners and very territorial. They wouldn't abide by   
having another one of their kind nearby.   
  
He shivered, remembering how very close Jim and McKennitt had came to   
blows the first time they met.   
  
Ariel's restless whimper roused the grad student from his thoughts.   
  
Concerned, he reached out to touch her forehead. Her skin was hot, the sweat   
cold to his touch. He knew what that meant, even under these crazy   
circumstances. She was developing an infection somewhere inside her body.   
  
Blair chewed the side of his mouth as he glanced worriedly at the door. Ariel's   
IV supply of antibodies had ran out probably hours ago. If nothing was done to   
prevent the infection from spreading, she could very well lose her life.   
  
His future granddaughter moved restlessly under his touch, whimpering softly.   
Cold sweat drenched her pale drawn face. Even in sleep, she could not escape   
the pain.   
  
"Hang on, Ariel." Sandburg soothed in his best Guide voice.   
  
He rewet the square of linen he had tore from his blanket in the meagre supply   
of water he had saved from his meals and wiped the clammy sweat from her   
face.  
  
Her eyes drifted open, glazed with fever, staring unseeingly at him. There was   
no recognition in those dark blue depths. Her dry lips parted but no sounds   
emerged. Instead Blair felt her fretful call in his mind.   
  
//Jamie?...//  
  
"She's coming soon. Don't worry."   
  
Dully, her eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling. //Dylan?...//  
  
"Who?" Sandburg didn't get a reply, distracted by the unlocking of the door.   
  
Marisa entered, followed by Fillmore. The woman with raven hair and eyes so   
pale as to be colourless was armed to the teeth. Likewise with the thin man he   
recognised as Fillmore. Both of them were dressed in black clothes.   
  
"About time," Blair burst out angrily. "Her antibodies' gone, and she's   
developing an infection. If you don't do something quick, she's going to get   
worse."  
  
Marisa's pale gaze swept over the prone figure of Ariel. Blair felt a chill at the   
apathy in those near-colourless depth.  
  
"You ain't going to do anything, are you?" It was more of a statement than a   
question.  
  
"Save your breath, Professor." Fillmore wheeled Ariel out of the room on her   
cot.  
  
"Your turn." Marisa gestured with her magnum for him to follow Fillmore.  
  
Blair obediently followed, wisely decided against making a break for his   
freedom. "Where are you taking us?"  
  
"You'll know when we get there."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Cascade Water Treatment Plant  
Saturday - 9pm  
  
The loaner truck pulled up to a stop in front of Cascade Water Treatment Plant.   
Jim turned the engine off and glanced over at his passenger.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
McKennitt stared out at the darkened water treatment plant, face inscrutable.   
"Why didn't we tell Captain Banks about this midnight jaunt of ours?"  
  
Jim tugged on his baseball cap and checked his gun. "He'll insist we bring   
backup along and I'll get into another argument with him, which I'm not in the   
mood for. Happens all the time whenever Sandburg's in trouble."  
  
The ghost of a smile crossed McKennitt's face. "Now why does that sound   
familiar?"  
  
They got out of the loaner truck, guns tucked discreetly by their sides. It was a   
dark night; there was no moon. But they were Sentinels - they simply   
compensated for the darkness.   
  
The gate leading into the water treatment plant was unlocked - unusual but not   
surprising. Neither did the absence of the night security caused them any   
alarm. They were being expected.   
  
McKennitt glanced over at her grandfather. His gaze was fixed to the quiet   
treatment plant inside, clearly searching for ambush with his sight and hearing.   
She did the same, noting the patches of total audio silence scattered   
throughout the treatment plant.  
  
"Now I really wish we've told Captain Banks about this," came her nearly   
soundless remark.  
  
Jim didn't say anything, but the same thought ran through his mind. He, too,   
noted the telltale signs of white-noise generators in use.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed the gate open and slipped into the   
treatment plant. He upped his senses, sweeping the area to find even the   
slightest hint of his Guide, and his kidnappers.  
  
A floodlight was turned on suddenly, stabbing right into his eyes. He winced,   
hurriedly covering his sensitive eyes. Quick relief came as McKennitt swiftly   
placed herself between him and the floodlight and any potential shooters,   
blocking the light until he has adjusted.  
  
"You all right?" she whispered Sentinel-soft, never taking her eyes off her   
surrounding.  
  
Jim blinked, shaking his head to clear it. "Yeah."   
  
"Welcome, Detective Ellison and Detective McKennitt." A surprisingly genteel   
male voice rang out from somewhere in the darkness up ahead. "Although I   
have to wonder why you chose 'McKennitt', Ellison. Or you would rather I call   
you Jamie instead?"  
  
Jim squinted, trying to see past the brightness. He saw a man's shape standing   
just behind the floodlight. But other than that, he could not make out any other   
details past the brightness of the floodlight. *Clever bastard.*   
  
"Where are Ariel and Sandburg?" McKennitt shouted.  
  
"Now, now. Where are your manners? Wouldn't you rather we get   
reacquainted first?"  
  
"I would rather see you in Hell first," McKennitt snarled.  
  
Jim stepped forward, lying a calming hand on her shoulder. "Are you the   
Boss?"  
  
"I see McKennitt have told you about me."  
  
"What do you want with us?"  
  
"Direct approach, though a tad rude. Oh well, what else can I expect from the   
Ellisons? All right, we might as well get this part over with. Take a look at six   
o'clock."   
  
Turning towards that direction, Jim saw the television set inside the guard post.   
He had no problem making out what was on the television screen.   
  
Both Blair and Glassner were at the treatment vats. His Guide was standing on   
a device that resembled a landmine. A distance from him, an unconscious Ariel   
was strapped in a body harness and hung directly over a vat of waste water.   
There was a toxic sign stencilled on the side of the metal vat.   
  
Beside him, he could hear McKennitt sucking in her breath at the sight.   
  
"Damn him," she whispered. Enraged, she whirled around and yelled at the   
Boss. "Damn you, Dylan! Don't you know who she is?!"   
  
The Boss's voice was hard and apathetic. "Of course I know who she is, and I   
sure as hell don't care."  
  
There was definitely more going on here than meets the eye, Jim realised.   
Obviously, McKennitt hadn't been telling the entire truth when she said no one   
knows the Boss's real identity.   
  
"When I get my hands on you -" McKennitt started to growl, hatred dripping   
from each word.  
  
"Oh, spare me." The Boss cut her off condescendingly. "You're here on my   
terms, and to play by my rules."   
  
"State the rules," Jim demanded.   
  
He was no less angry at the threat directed at his partner, but compared to   
McKennitt, he was still rational. Barely.  
  
The Boss's voice regained its good humour. "It's very simple. All you have to   
do is try to rescue Ariel. You saw the device Professor Sandburg is stepping   
on? That's the remote control for the safety line attached to Ariel. The slightest   
move from him will trigger the switch and the line will automatically detaches.   
And Ariel will fall into a vat filled with industrial-strength toxic water.   
Unpleasant indeed."  
  
"And what's the catch?"   
  
"The remote control also has a timer switch on it. You have twenty minutes to   
rescue her, or she falls." The shadowy figure of the Boss leaned forward   
against the railing. "Here's the part I like best. Fail, and you won't get your   
Guide back ever."  
  
"Fine. Let's get this over and done with."  
  
"Not so fast, Ellison. Marisa has requested for a rematch and I have graciously   
granted her. You would have to get past her."  
  
"Stop wasting our time," McKennitt snapped, moving forward. Only to jump   
back when a bullet bit the ground inches from her feet. "What the-?"   
  
"Only Detective Ellison, Jamie. You'll just have to miss all the fun."  
  
McKennitt cursed him.   
  
The Boss simply laughed. "Languages, my dear Jamie. Now, let the game   
begins!"  
  
Jim took a deep breath and started forward. McKennitt's grasp on his forearm   
stopped him.  
  
"Be careful out there, grandpa."   
  
Jim gave her a funny look. *Grandpa?*  
  
She misinterpreted his look as him thinking that she was being over-protective.   
  
"Just be prepared for anything, okay? They want you dead, and they won't stop   
at nothing. If you dies..."  
  
She swallowed, unable to put her worst fears into words. But Jim understood. If   
he dies, she wouldn't exist either.  
  
"Don't worry. I intend to live for a long while."   
  
Then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness ahead. McKennitt took a   
deep breath, trying to calm her agitation.   
  
Alone, she was keenly aware of being literally caught in the spotlight. And she   
could feel eyes on her - the Boss, the sniper, no, two snipers.  
  
She clutched her fists hanging loosely by her sides in frustration. She was   
caught well and good in an invisible cage, pinned down with no way out.  
  
***  
  
Blair glanced over to where Ariel hung, still and almost lifeless in the harness   
that held her suspended over a treatment vat full of toxic-looking water.   
  
Her reddish-brown hair veiled her face, but Blair knew that her position had got   
to be killing her. A healthy person would find it uncomfortable, but to a critically   
wounded, it must be agonising.   
  
Add the fact that their kidnappers had not shown any consideration when   
stringing her up to die. He could see the blood seeping down her body,   
drenching her harness and dripping into the treatment vat in small red droplets.   
One or more of her wounds had been reopened from their rough manhandling.   
  
Then he glanced down at the landmine-looking device he was standing on, and   
swallowed hard. Fillmore had clearly explained the rules of the deadly game to   
him. His imagination was running wild conjuring terrifying images one after   
another.  
  
"This sucks," he muttered. "This really sucks."  
  
His gaze jerked up in alarm as he heard a gunshot in the distance. His alarm   
transformed into a sense of cautionary relief. In that unexplainable manner he   
could never pin down, he realised his Sentinel was nearby and was coming to   
his rescue.  
  
"You heard that, Ariel?" He called out into the darkness, trying to root the other   
Guide to this world with his voice.   
  
"That has got to be Jim and McKennitt. I told you they would find us. They're   
our Blessed Protectors, after all. Ariel? Come on, gal, say something, or at the   
very least think something to me. Stay with me, okay?"  
  
//...hard...// Her mental voice was almost voiceless, weakened so much that he   
barely heard it.   
  
"I know it's hard, but you got to hang in there. They're almost here. You can't   
give up now. If you do, I'll never forgive you. Neither would McKennitt."  
  
//Hurry...// This time he sensed she was not talking to him. There was a shade   
of encroaching death colouring the words.   
  
***  
  
//Hurry...//  
  
"I hear you, Ariel." McKennitt whispered. Her gaze fixed unerringly in the   
direction of the treatment vats. She tried to project her thoughts back to her   
dying Guide.   
  
//Ariel? Pagan? Just stay with me, all right?//  
  
//Hurry...// Her Guide's mental voice faded, leaving behind an empty ache in   
her heart.  
  
McKennitt's gaze darted about the place desperately, trying to find some way   
to break out of the virtual cage. She had no doubt that the snipers have her in   
their sight. There was no way she could break away without getting   
shot...unless she takes out the floodlight first.  
  
McKennitt closed her eyes and took a deep breath, determined to find a way   
out of her predicament. She imagined Ariel's mental voice in her mind, soft and   
whispery like the wind.   
  
Focus...find your calm...  
  
She blocked out the outside world, concentrating on finding the centre of her   
calmness deep within her. Ariel once compared her to a hurricane. Reaching   
deep within herself, she found the eye, the centre of calmness.   
  
The whispery voice brushed against her mind, not imagined this time, guiding   
her.   
  
//Picture what you're going to do...//  
  
As a smile curved her lips when she heard her Guide once more, McKennitt let   
the scenario played out itself in her mind.   
  
//Now unleash the Sentinel in you...//   
  
McKennitt didn't remember moving. Thoughts and movements melding as one,   
she launched into a quicksilver blur of actions.   
  
The floodlight shattered from her well-placed shot, even as she was lunging for   
cover. Darkness descended, at the same time she felt the bullets bit the dirt   
behind her. Her enemies were temporarily blinded, but she wasn't. Twisting   
and sprinting at the same time, she fired back, unerringly knocking out the two   
snipers.   
  
By the time they managed to get a second floodlight up and running, she had   
melted away into the treatment plant.  
  
The Boss growled angrily at the unexpected turn of event. He hastily picked   
himself up from where he had threw himself onto the ramp when he heard the   
shots fired. He didn't need to look to know she was gone.   
  
Moving quickly to get to the ground, he deployed his henchmen to spread out   
and find McKennitt. He himself would head straight for the treatment vats to   
personally takes care of business.   
  
***  
  
Jim was nearly halfway through the treatment plant when he heard the rifle   
shots. He ducked behind the nearest cover, gun held tightly in his hand.   
  
For a moment he was tempted to reach out further with his hearing to seek   
McKennitt's heartbeat, but he resisted the urge. Without his Guide to anchor   
him, he was afraid he would zone and that would be disastrous. Hoping that   
McKennitt would be all right, Jim turned his attention back to his own   
predicament.   
  
All his senses were upped as far as he dared to as he stealthily crept through   
the treatment plant.   
  
The place was alive in a way he didn't like. It was full of shadows and the   
artificial lights that lit the place at intervals were barely enough even for him.   
And the sounds. There were machines still at work, the vibrations of water   
churning through pipes. It was like being in the stomach of an artificial beast,   
not at all like the forest in which he tracked Quinn down.  
  
He heard the soft rustle of a rifle butt coming to rest on a cloth-covered   
shoulder in the distance. Going with his instincts and Army training, he ran. A   
bullet pinged on the pipe he hid behind a moment ago. And another nearly at   
his heels, and another. Nearly bent doubled to make himself a smaller target,   
he dashed for rows of water tanks. Bullets, narrowly missing him by inches,   
discouraged him from going in directions he wanted to go.  
  
Herding, he realised with a fresh surge of anger. He was being herded to   
where they wanted him to go. Most likely a trap. *Well, they have another thing   
coming.*   
  
Jim faked right and feinted left, ignoring the bullet that grazed his arm and the   
resulting blaze of pain that nearly caused him to drop his gun. Dropping and   
sliding, he squeezed into a tight spot between two control consoles.   
  
His heart was pounding, his breaths harsh puffs of white. He wiped the sweat   
off his face, fighting to find his pain dial and dial it down. The tension in his   
body loosened when he managed to suppress the pain in his arm to a more   
manageable level.   
  
It was only then he felt the wrongness of this area. An uneasiness settled in the   
pits of his stomach as he pushed his senses outward, ignoring the risks of a   
zone-out. The uneasiness changed to dread when he quickly discovered the   
reason for it.  
  
The place was completely silent to his ears. He couldn't even hear the   
ambience of his surrounding. Sight was out of the question as well; the same   
artificial lights did nothing to push back the shadows. And the saturated smell   
of Lysol stung his nose. He could never abide the stuff. There was no way he   
could smell anything beyond that. The only thing working for him was touch   
and that was useless with his pain dial turned down. It was as though he had   
stepped into a bubble that muffled his Sentinel senses.  
  
*Aw, shit.* Looks like he did stepped into a trap after all. *Fine, if this is how   
they want to play.*   
  
Unhesitatingly, Jim ventured forward once more. The bullet slamming into his   
chest caught him by surprise. Pain exploding in his chest, he staggered and   
collapsed limply to the ground.  
  
Heavy silence descended, chasing away the echoes of the rifle shot.   
  
From the shadows above, a black figure detached from the darkness and   
stepped forward, scope rifle in hand. Pale eyes glittered with triumph.   
  
Tossing aside the scope rifle, Marisa deftly clambered to the ground, despite   
her injured shoulder hampering her movements. She landed on her booted feet   
with a soft thud. Pulling out her magnum with her good hand, she cautiously   
approached the still figure sprawled on the ground. With a booted foot, she   
prodded Jim's side.   
  
Jim's eyes flew wide open as his hand suddenly shot out, grabbed her ankle   
and yanked her off-balance with all his might. Crying out in enraged surprise,   
Marisa went sprawling to the ground.   
  
The Sentinel tackled her, eyes blazing blue fire. Fury and desperation drove   
him on, despite the pain throbbing in his chest. He pinned her to the ground,   
wrestling for the magnum.   
  
Despite being handicapped by an injured arm, Marisa was surprisingly strong.   
And she didn't play fair either. Jim felt one of her legs escaping from the   
confine of his own, followed swiftly by a solid kick in his groin. He grunted, pain   
shooting up his loins. His patience snapping, Jim pushed her arms aside and   
head-butted her.   
  
Marisa's head snapped back, hitting the ground with a satisfying thud. Jim got   
up to his feet, pulling the groggy assassin after him. He dragged her   
unresisting form to a set of pipes and cuffed her to the pipes.   
  
Jim scooped up his gun, taking care not to aggravate his bruised chest. He   
slipped one hand inside his shirt and felt the kevlar vest McKennitt had insisted   
he wear. Marisa's slug was flattened right over his heart. Without the protective   
vest, he would have been dead.   
  
"Remind me to thank her," he muttered.  
  
He limped as quickly as he could, heading straight for the treatment vats. His   
body hurts in several places, especially in one particularly sensitive area, but   
he forced himself to run. Abandoning stealth in favour of speed. Time was   
running out for Blair and his granddaughter.   
  
Reaching a door with the words 'To Treatment Vats' stencilled on it, Jim slowly   
opened the door a slit and peered out. A breeze chilled the sweat on his face.   
Outside, lit by lamp-posts, he saw double rows of treatment vats in the   
concrete trenches.   
  
Jim slipped out, breathing a sigh of relief when the world sprung into startlingly   
clarity for him once more. He was outside the muffling bubble. Blair's heartbeat   
called to him, and he unerringly pinpointed their positions with his sight.  
  
*Hang on, Chief.* Jim dashed for the metal stairwell and took three at a time.   
*I'm coming.* Reaching the second lowest, the Sentinel opted to jump over the   
railing. Rolling to break his momentum, Jim hit the ground running.   
  
"Jim! Look out!"  
  
Jim felt the threatening presence at the same time his Guide cried out the   
warning. He skidded to a halt, back-pedalling to a safe distance away from the   
man who blocked his path.  
  
His hackles rose. He swore there was no one there a moment ago. Yet when   
the man was there. He stood in shadows that for some reasons, Jim could not   
penetrate with his superior sight. The Sentinel tensed, sensing a strangeness   
about this new opponent.  
  
"Well done, Detective." The genteel voice identified the man. "Who would've   
thought you actually managed to defeat Marisa."  
  
"I've fought worse," Jim told him in a hard voice. His gun trailed unwaveringly   
on the Boss. "Now get out of my way."  
  
"I think not."   
  
The Boss's voice changed, became softer, gentler, more persuading. "Listen to   
me, Sentinel. There's no need for us to fight. I'm just here to do business.   
Lower your weapon and let us talk."   
  
"There's nothing to talk about," Jim replied harshly. He shifted his weight   
uneasily. He didn't like the change of tactic. There was something strange   
about the Boss's voice, something...attractive. He sounded much more   
compelling than Blair ever did, and it almost freaked him out.   
  
"I can let her go," the Boss said. His voice turned seductive, insistent. "I can   
release Sandburg too. All you have to do is listen to me."  
  
Jim shook his head, as though trying to clear the fog in his mind. But the Boss's   
hypnotic cadence only lulled him in deeper and deeper.   
  
"All you have to do is just open your senses and listen to me..."  
  
Common sense screamed to him that the Boss was up to something, but Jim   
couldn't stop himself from listening to that siren voice. It was so soothing,   
weaving a webbed haven that snared his senses and mind. He was unable to   
resist.   
  
"The world around you is so clear, so sharp. It's so wonderful, isn't it? This   
heightened level of sensation. Something that only you can experience," the   
Boss continued to speak, lulling Jim further into the light trance.   
  
"Yes."  
  
The Boss smiled triumphantly at the monotonous reply. A knife-edged smile.   
  
"But the world overwhelms you with sensations, Sentinel. You try to keep it   
back, but you can't. Your control isn't that strong. You can't stop yourself from   
being bombarded by the unceasingly sounds, hurting your ears, the light   
blinding you, hurting you."  
  
Jim reeled back slightly, cringing from the sudden increase of sensory input.  
  
The Boss's cruel smile widened. "Your control is gone, and you are in a world   
of pain."   
  
It was like the world has exploded around him. Jim's senses spun crazily out of   
control as raw sensory input bombarded him, much like a dam that had given   
way. Glaring light pierced his eyes, even through his tightly-squeezed eyelids.   
His gun fell with a clatter; he flinched from the thunderous sound and clamped   
his hands over his ears. Screaming, he crumpled to the ground and curled into   
a tight ball, trying to escape the sensory overload hell he was in.   
  
"Sweet victory," the Boss crooned softly with deep satisfaction. "How I love the   
taste of it."  
  
He stepped forward, picked up Jim's gun, and pointed it to the Sentinel's head.   
  
"Goodbye, Sentinel."   
  
***  
  
Blair's blood ran cold when he saw the man literally appearing from out of the   
darkness to intercept his Sentinel.  
  
"Jim, look out!"   
  
Jim skidded to a halt, confronting this newest adversary. Somehow, Blair's gut   
instincts told him it was Boss taking charge and Jim was going to be in more   
trouble than he could handle.  
  
He itched to jump off the pressure-sensitive remote control and run to his   
Sentinel's side, but he dared not. Almost fidgeting with his agitation, he hacked   
his brain desperately, trying to find some ways to help Jim and still save their   
hides.   
  
"Forget it, Professor." Fillmore said from his perch, where he had been keeping   
an eye on him ever since they came here. "The Boss didn't create a trap for   
anyone to escape from. Might as well give up the fight right now."  
  
"Give up the fight?" Blair retorted. "In your dreams. My partner never gives up,   
and neither will I."   
  
Fillmore just shrugged. "Suit yourself, Professor. Just remember, if you run, I'll   
come after you."  
  
Blair was about make another retort when he saw, from the corner of his eyes,   
an arm snaking out from below in the trench. Before he could blink, the hand   
grasped Fillmore firmly by the ankle and yanked him off-balance. The   
henchman yelped in surprise and tried to struggle free. But he was too slow   
and he was pulled unceremoniously into the trench. Blair heard a loud thumb,   
the sounds of a quick scuffle, then silence. He unconsciously held his breath,   
waiting tersely to see who had won the brief fight.   
  
Like a brown ghost, McKennitt hauled herself out of the trench and onto the   
ground. "You all right, Professor?"  
  
Blair noisily released the breath he had been holding. His words spilled out in a   
relieved rush. "Yeah, yeah. Just get us out of this booby trap, will ya? Jim's in   
trouble. I don't know what!"   
  
McKennitt had no trouble making out the exchange between the Boss and Jim   
from this distance. She tossed her gun to Blair, surprising the grad student with   
the move.  
  
"The gun's automatic. Just aim and fire," she explained as she dashed past him   
to Ariel.   
  
Swallowing hard, Blair held the gun a distance away from his body. Part of him   
cringed away from the feel of the cold hard metal in his hand, the other part   
willing to do anything to protect his Sentinel. He alternately watched McKennitt   
rescuing her Guide and Jim confronting the Boss. He didn't like what he saw.   
The Boss was doing something to Jim. Something bad. He didn't know what,   
but from the looks of Jim's body language, he didn't think it was good.  
  
"Hurry up!" He urged McKennitt. "I got to get to Jim!"  
  
Balanced precariously at the edge of the vat, McKennitt stretched as far as she   
could reach and grabbed Ariel's limp body. "I got her!"  
  
Blair was off like a bolt of lightning, triggering the remote control. The catch of   
the body harness clicked open and Ariel slumped into McKennitt's arms, the   
Sentinel from the future grunting at the sudden dead weight in her arms.   
  
Cradling the unconscious body tightly, McKennitt clambered back onto the   
ground. She hastily shrugged off her trench coat and wrapped the cold body in   
it. Ariel's too slow heartbeat frightened her.  
  
"Ariel?"   
  
Right now, she didn't much care for her grandfather's confrontation. Her being   
was consumed with getting her Guide medical help, ensuring that she would   
live. She carried the body of her Guide, trying her best not to jolt her as she   
practically raced back to the entrance of the treatment plant.   
  
"Stay with me, pagan. Please? The medics are on their way already. Just hang   
in there for a while longer."   
  
***  
  
Blair's heart nearly stopped in terror when he saw the Boss pointing a gun at   
Jim's head. He skidded to a halt, blindly aiming McKennitt's gun in the Boss's   
direction.  
  
"Back off!"  
  
The Boss whirled round, gun sight swiftly and unerringly aimed straight at   
Blair's heart. He hesitated, startled to see the grad student. "How did you —?"  
  
"Fillmore isn't much of a guard, if that's what you're asking. Now I said back   
off."  
  
The Boss quickly switched target again, stepping and kneeling behind Jim's   
prostrate form. Using his Sentinel as a shield, much to his growing fury.   
  
"Drop it, if you wish to have him back alive."   
  
Blair fought to think clearly, past the fist of fear and anger clutching his heart.   
He took a quick glance at Jim. His Sentinel was nearly zoned. On what, he   
didn't know? He just knew he has to shake him out of it before he stops   
breathing. But the Boss was in the way unless...  
  
Without pausing to consider the consequences, Blair suddenly reversed his   
aim. He placed the gun barrel against his own forehead, swallowing nervously   
at the feel of the cold metal. But his voice remained calm and unafraid.   
  
"If he dies, I die."  
  
The Boss paused, eyes narrowing. "Go ahead then."  
  
"I don't think you really want me to," Blair told him. "I think I'm way too   
important to you."  
  
"You think too highly of yourself."  
  
"Not really." Blair wet his dry lips before continuing. "I've been kidnapped and   
held hostage too many times not to notice the difference. The way you treat   
me, like I'm some kind of VIP."   
  
From the sudden tensing of his stance, Blair knew he had hit a sore spot.   
  
"Guess I am that important to you. Now leave him alone!"  
  
The Boss stared at him for a long moment, his gaze intense as he locked eyes   
with Blair in a battle of wills. Blair refused to break the gaze, even though he   
was almost hyperventilating with fear. But his hand remained steady, pressing   
the gun barrel against his own forehead.  
  
In the distance, he heard police sirens. It was cavalry to the rescue, late as   
always but better than never.  
  
Grudgingly, the Boss backed down. The Sentinel's gun clattered to the ground.   
He rose to his feet and distanced himself from Jim, retreating back into the   
shadows.   
  
"You win this time, Professor. But it's not over, not until Ellison's dead."  
  
"Go away."  
  
Silence greeted him.   
  
Blair cautiously moved forward, never removing the gun from his forehead,   
eyes darting around. Only when he was assured that the Boss was truly gone,   
did he lowered the gun and rushed to Jim's side.  
  
"Jim?"   
  
He cradled the pale cold face in his hands. Jim's face was a blank mask, eyes   
wide and vacant, the pupils shrank to nearly invisibility. He was barely   
breathing. *Oh man, what did he do to you?*  
  
Blair took a deep breath and modulated his voice, unconsciously falling into his   
Guide mode.   
  
"Jim, it's me Blair. Come back to me, big guy. Listen to my voice, follow my   
voice out of that black cold void you're in. I know it's comfortable and safe   
there, I know it hurts to be aware again, but you have to come back. You're not   
going to let that bad guy win, are you? Not after I have to threaten him with my   
own life. Come on, Jim. Come back to me. Simon'll have my head if I lose   
you."  
  
He almost collapsed from sheer relief when he heard Jim's sudden inhale of   
breath. The broad chest under his arm began to rise and fall more deeply, the   
blue eyes blinked and pupils dilated to normal size. Jim's face came alive once   
more with animation.  
  
"Chief?" Jim rasped.  
  
"Welcome back. Man, you scared me half to death."  
  
Recent memory came rushing back. Jim bolted up, alert and scanning for the   
villain. Blair grabbed him by his shoulders, preventing him from rising to his   
feet.  
  
"Easy, Jim. He's gone. He's not bothering us anymore. Besides, the cops are   
here."  
  
Nevertheless, the Sentinel scanned the surrounding. Only when he was   
satisfied that they were really safe did he relax. He turned his concerned gaze   
to his Guide.  
  
"You all right, Chief? He didn't hurt you, did he?"  
  
"I'm fine." Blair's voice shook slightly. "Really."   
  
Jim noticed the fine tremors racking his body. He wrapped his arms about the   
smaller man, hugging him tightly, as though trying to absorb his fear into   
himself.  
  
"That was way too close, man." Blair said, his voice muffled against Jim's   
chest.  
  
"It's over, Chief." Jim said reassuringly. "We're safe. Everything's fine now."  
  
"But for how long?"  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Station garage, Cascade PD  
Two weeks later...  
  
Jim lifted an eyebrow when he saw the boxy-looking 62' Volvo pulled into the   
police station's garage.   
  
The Volvo was dark green, and obviously second-hand. Well, maybe third-  
hand, or fourth, judging from the way the engine was coughing up a strain.   
When Blair finally killed the engine, Jim swore it sounded as though it just died.  
  
"Hi, Jim." Blair slid out from the Volvo and trotted towards him, his ever-present   
backpack slung across his shoulder.   
  
"New car?" Jim gestured to the Volvo.  
  
"Yeah," Blair beamed. "Well, it's not really that new. It's second-hand. I got it   
for a thousand bucks. What do you think?"  
  
Jim slowly walked a circuit around the Volvo, examining it from all angles.   
Occasionally, he looked up at his roommate with an inscrutable expression.   
Blair was rocking slightly on his heels, eagerly awaiting his opinion of his   
bargain buy.  
  
"It looks sturdy," he commented. "In fact, more sturdy than the Corvair."  
  
"And?"  
  
"It's compact." Jim kicked one of the tire experimentally. "Solid wheels."  
  
"And?"  
  
"It's...small." Jim peered inside, gauging the amount of leg room. "Definitely not   
for me."  
  
"Aanndd?"  
  
Blair waited for a long while. Jim absently stroked his chin, humming and   
hawing, as though trying to make up his mind. The grad student shifted his   
weight from foot to foot impatiently.   
  
"Come on, Jim. What else? I know you're holding something back."  
  
"You sure you want to know?"  
  
"Yes!"   
  
"Okay," Jim gave in with great reluctance. "Your engine just died."  
  
Blair didn't get it. "Meaning?"  
  
Jim changed tactic. "Meaning you're going to have a hard time starting it up   
again."  
  
"No way! The guy told me the engine's in top condition for a second-hand car.   
Beside, I took it out for a test drive. It worked perfectly!"   
  
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Chief. But I could hear the engine straining   
like a bellows when you pulled into the garage. Couldn't you hear it?"   
  
Blair rolled his eyes heavenwards. Right, his Sentinel hearing things that he   
couldn't. No surprise there.  
  
"In fact I'm not even sure if it'll start up again," Jim continued, oblivious to his   
reaction.   
  
That got Blair's attention. The grad student gave Jim a suspicious look. Then   
he shoved his backpack into his roommate's arms. "Here, hold this."  
  
Jim complacently leaned against the hood of a patrol car, backpack in hands,   
watching avidly as Blair got into his Volvo again and started it up. The engine   
roared once with impressive promptness and died abruptly.  
  
"Damn."   
  
Jim smothered a smirk at the muffled curse. He watched as Blair tried three   
more times. Three more times, the engine refused to start. Finally, Blair got out   
of his Volvo, slamming shut the door with an angry bang.   
  
He glowered at Jim. "Not. A. Word."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it, Chief." Jim replied with a straight face.  
  
They took the Expedition, which had came back from the shop in pristine   
condition.  
  
***  
  
"I can't believe I paid a thousand bucks for a lousy car with a lousy engine,"   
Blair griped for the hundredth time as they entered Cascade General Hospital.  
  
"Well, look at it this way, Chief. At least you got a set of wheels now."  
  
"Yeah, wheels that'll get me to nowhere. It'll be like pedalling an exercise bike.   
Geez, I can't believe I paid a thousand bucks for it."   
  
Jim listened with barely concealed humour to Blair's grousing as they took the   
elevator up to the sixth floor. As was his habit for the past two weeks, he briefly   
extended his hearing for the two heartbeats that were growing more familiar to   
him with each day.   
  
It has been a full two weeks since their confrontation with the Boss. The police   
had arrived that night to take Marisa and Fillmore into custody, and sent two   
dead snipers to the morgue. They couldn't find anyone else in the treatment   
plant. It was as though the Boss and the rest of his henchmen had vanished   
into the darkness. They were keeping a vigilant lookout for the Boss, but so far   
he remained strangely inactive.   
  
Their only source were Fillmore and Marisa, but neither of them were talking.   
Nor did they want a lawyer to represent their case. Fillmore turned out to be   
easy to charge, since he has a rep sheet as long as Jim's arm. But Marisa was   
a problem. Jim wasn't surprised when triple searches through the databases   
turned out nothing. In a way, she really didn't exist.   
  
But that was all right with him. As long as they were in jail, and not bothering   
them, he was happy.  
  
Simon, on the other hand, was an exceedingly pissed captain. He blasted Jim   
and McKennitt for not telling him about their midnight jaunt. The Sentinel   
winced inwardly at the memory. That was one of the few times he had truly   
angered his captain and friend. Jim was sorely tempted to tell him the truth, but   
McKennitt persuaded him not to, saying something about changing history,   
blah, blah, blah.   
  
In the end, they have to do some creative paperwork to tone down the rather   
fantastic truth. They knew the brass wouldn't even know the differences, but   
Simon suspected. And that had added to his displeasure.   
  
They entered Ariel's ward, just in time to see McKennitt fell off the chair   
laughing hysterically. This brought a fresh burst of laughter from Ariel, who was   
hugging her middle and laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her   
cheeks.   
  
For the second time that day, Jim raised a brow at the comical sight. It was   
odd seeing the usually aloof detective so...relaxed.   
  
"Care to share the joke?" Blair asked, his black mood brightening instantly.   
  
"Just reminiscing," Ariel giggled. "Come in, pull up a chair, and we'll tell you all   
about our childhood mishaps."  
  
Jim extended a helping hand to McKennitt who was still wrecked by fits of   
giggles. "So what's the incident that's so funny?"  
  
McKennitt exchanged a glance with Ariel, and they both burst out laughing   
again.   
  
"I think we've just stepped into a madhouse, Chief." Jim remarked dryly to his   
roommate.   
  
Privately, he was pleased to see them cutting loose. McKennitt had spent the   
entire two weeks alternating between Ariel's bedside and creating a whole new   
identity for her Guide.   
  
They were astonished to see how quickly she managed to insinuate 'Ariel   
Sutherland' into Cascade's databases, thus efficiently removing a huge chunk   
of obstacles for her. When they questioned her about it, she finally admitted   
that she spent twelve years building Ariel's cover in case something like this   
would happen.   
  
Ariel, for her part, had amazed her doctors with her rapid recovery. Two weeks   
ago, she arrived at the hospital close to death. Now, not only was she awake   
and out of danger, she was practically healing at an incredible rate. The   
doctors diagnosed that in another week's time, she would be well enough for   
home supervision instead. When asked what was her secret, she only said   
something about 'mind-over-matter' and a friend's touch.   
  
"Stop, stop." Ariel gasped, nearly curled up from laughing too much, and too   
hard. "Oh, it hurts."  
  
"Sorry," McKennitt finally managed to stop laughing long enough to apologise.   
She got up from the floor and gently laid a hand against her back. "Better?"  
  
Ariel relaxed, sighing gustily in relief. "Much."   
  
Blair threw a smug look in Jim's direction. He was the first to understand the   
'mind-over-matter' remark. But when he tried to elaborate it to Jim, his   
roommate only snorted and said it was nothing but hogwash. Yeah, right.  
  
"You know something, pagan?" McKennitt was saying. "It feels great to laugh   
like that again."  
  
"You're telling me." Ariel wiped away her tears.   
  
"They did say laughter is the best medicine," Blair pointed out with a grin.  
  
"Not if you're going to die laughing," Jim countered good-naturedly. "By the   
way, Simon sends his regards."  
  
"He also said he might be dropping by to talk to you," Blair added. "I think he   
suspect we know more than what we're telling him."  
  
Ariel looked askance at her Sentinel. "What did you tell him?"   
  
McKennitt shrugged off-handedly. "Well, much of the truth, except about the   
time-travel part. He already got a permanent headache from just dealing with   
our grandfathers."  
  
Jim rubbed his forehead. "You know that's another thing we got to talk about."   
  
"What thing?"  
  
"You addressing us as 'grandfather'. We're not old enough to be grandfathers   
yet."   
  
Blair gave him an impish look. "I don't know about me, but you're definitely old   
enough to start balding."  
  
That earned him a playful swat on the back of his head. "Watch it, squirt."  
  
"So you would prefer us to call you by name instead?" McKennitt asked,   
grinning openly at their by-play.  
  
"That would be the best."   
  
"Does that mean I've to refrain from calling him 'Professor' as well?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Aw, come on, Jim." Blair complained. "Do you have any idea just how much I   
want to be called professor?"  
  
"I know that, Chief. But you're not a professor yet. If anyone hears it, it would   
raise a lot of questions I don't want to answer." Jim turned back to their   
descendants. "Just plain Ellison and Sandburg will do."   
  
"If that's your wish, we'll comply." Ariel replied solemnly.   
  
Then she grinned brilliantly. "So what's this I heard from Jamie about you   
chasing a criminal on horseback?"   
  
Jim groaned. "Not you too."   
  
"Come on, Jim." Blair urged, his gleeful grin mirroring the one on Ariel's face.   
"Be a sport and tell her about it."  
  
"There's nothing to tell, Chief."  
  
"Sure there is."  
  
"Basically, I want to know how granduncle Steven was like," McKennitt spoke   
up. "What I do know of him was stories from Sandburg, and his memory wasn't   
really that accurate."  
  
"Hey, I resent that remark!"   
  
"You were very old at the time," Ariel pointed out.  
  
"Oh...that's different then."  
  
"So tell us," Ariel pleaded. "Please?"  
  
Jim groaned again, knowing when the battle's lost. *Why are all Sandburgs so   
good with the lost puppy-eyed look?* He sighed.   
  
"All right, all right. It all begun when Simon decided to sponsor a horse he   
called Little Stodgie..."  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
T H E E N D 


	3. Unravelling - Part 1

Name : Cyberoid13  
Title : Time Circle - Unravelling   
Category : Drama  
Rating : PG-13  
  
Author's comments: This is the sequel to 'Time Circle - Converging'. It's an AU sorta,   
what might happen instead of 'Warriors'. The mentioned Washington license plate   
could be somewhat inaccurate, since I don't live there. I just based it on Jim's license   
plate.   
  
Spoilers for lots of episodes: 'Warriors', 'Blind Man's Bluff', 'Flight', 'Inside Man',   
'Love and Guns', 'Secret', 'Survivors', 'Private Eyes', 'Killers' and 'Sentinel Too' Pt   
1. And maybe a few others I forgot to mention.   
  
Rohypnol is the pharmaceutical name for the 'date rape' drug. It does exist, though not   
in my country (thankfully). Just the description of what it can do to a person gives me   
the chills. It's so hard to believe that some people could come up with such a drug with   
no thoughts to the consequences or the harm it can do to innocent people (women and   
men alike). Golden doesn't really exist, of course (thank God). So the effect of the new   
strain of Golden (with Rohypnol) is what I think might happen by meshing the   
properties of both drugs together.   
  
The Temple of Warriors mentioned in the story does exist in northern Yucatan, as does   
the idol of Chacmool and the sacrifice altar. The ruins, together with the nearby   
Temple of Kukulkan were the religious sites of an unknown hybrid society of both   
Maya and Toltec elements. And this hybrid society did use the Temple of Warriors for   
human sacrifices. The perfect site for a bloody ceremony and still in the same sphere of   
influence as the Sentinel lore.   
  
World War Three and the Antichrist were part of Nostradamus's prophecies for the   
new millennium . He predicted the coming of the war and the Third Antichrist. Who,   
he didn't specify.   
  
This second instalment took a long time for me to write. Mostly because I was busy   
with my school projects and suffering from a huge writer's block. But it's completed   
now (whew). If you find the ending somewhat abrupt and unfinished and there's a lot   
of unanswered questions, it's because I intentionally left it that way. I planned to pick   
it up in the third and final instalment of the trilogy.   
  
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer apply (I'm getting pretty tired of writing them). Of   
course all original characters belong to me (such as McKennitt, Ariel and so forth).  
  
Note :* indicates thought  
// indicates telepathic speech  
{} indicates events Jim sees  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
~ D E R A I L I N G ~  
  
  
THE DREAM  
  
Even before he opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. The surface beneath his   
back was too hard, the air too damp. But when he opened his eyes and saw the blue-  
tinged jungle, he realised he was having another one of his vision-dreams again.  
  
He rose to his feet, absently glancing down at his attire. Black tee and pants, different   
clothes from the first time he had this sort of dream. But the bluish-tinged jungle   
remained the same, as well as the black panther that sat patiently on its hunches   
staring at him with its golden eyes. He stared back at the feline, his heartbeat picking   
up its rhythm. Somehow, he didn't think his Spirit Guide would pay him a visit just for   
sake of it.  
  
Purring softly, his Spirit Guide shook its massive head and padded away deeper into   
the jungle, pausing once at the edge of the clearing to look back at him. He got the   
hint and swiftly followed the black cat. He was forced to run after it, as his Spirit   
Guide loped through the jungle at a ground-eating speed. He burst into another   
clearing, stumbling to a halt in front of the temple he had seen only once before in his   
dreams. His Spirit Guide took its place on the alter and began to transform, morphing   
into a man.   
  
He thought it would be an Indian Sentinel, like it was the last time. To his shock, his   
Spirit Guide took on his shape, his face. He gaped at the mirror image standing on   
the stone alter, dressed in jungle fatigues and war-paint, regarding him with the same   
blue eyes but filled with ageless wisdom.  
  
"Why am I here?" he asked when it was clear his Spirit Guide was not going to break   
the silence.  
  
"To be given a warning." He shivered. It was his voice that answered his question,   
right down to the accent. But the reverberating, haunting bass was so typical of his   
Spirit Guide. "Danger approaches, Sentinel."  
  
"What danger? To whom? From where?"  
  
"The paths of time are unravelling," his Spirit Guide continued, as though it didn't   
hear his questions. It pointed upwards to the sky. When he looked in that direction, he   
saw the sky rippling and shredding apart to reveal the same patch of stars again and   
again. The unearthly phenomenon made his skin crawl.   
  
"What do you mean?" He really hated it when his Spirit Guide started going all   
mystical on him. He took a step closer to the alter, searching the serene expression of   
his mirror image.   
  
***  
  
A crack of thunder echoed across the sky, startling him. He bolted straight up in bed,   
mind still caught somewhere between dream state and awakening. Thunder rumbled   
once more, bringing him back fully to the waking state. For a still moment, he scanned   
the loft with his senses, making sure that he was fully awake. Rain pelted in earnest   
outside, a beating staccato against the skylights and windows. Lightning occasionally   
lit the dark interior of the loft. Beneath his bedroom, he could hear the steady, sleep-  
slow heartbeat of his roommate and Guide. All was right with the world at this   
moment. He slumped, wiping a hand across his sleep-gummed eyes as though to erase   
the last traces of his dream.  
  
His dream. His all-too real dream. The almost prophetic warning he was given. He   
shivered, and not liking the sensation one bit. Although he hadn't understood whatever   
his Spirit Guide was trying to tell him, the message sounded too dire and important for   
him to dismiss. He would have to discuss this with his Guide first thing in the morning.   
Hopefully, his Guide would be able to come up with some kind of explanation.   
  
Lying back down, he stared up at the ceiling of the loft, convinced that he wouldn't get   
back to sleep tonight. But he was wrong as minutes later, sleep crept up to him   
unnoticed.   
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
DAY ONE  
  
In the business district of Cascade, Washington, it was just another working day. The   
weather was calm and almost balmy, despite the thunderstorm in the night. Many office   
workers, making full use of their lunch hour, descended upon Bayside Park for a   
chance to stretch their limbs and breathe the fresh air. Everything was calm and   
peaceful. Just another ordinary day in the lives of the people of Cascade.   
  
For most of them anyway.  
  
A high-pitched squeal shattered their peaceful ordinary world, paralysing everyone in   
that one moment of instinctual fear. Before their eyes, a white van careened around the   
corner on two wheels, threatening to topple over to its side through sheer momentum.   
With an effort, the van righted itself and zoomed down Bayside Road at breakneck   
speed.   
  
Heartbeats later, a blue Ford Expedition came skidding around the same street corner,   
followed closely by a brown Buick. The Expedition arched wildly across the road,   
fighting to stay off the sidewalks. Slightly behind it, the Buick swerved to avoid   
colliding with the Expedition. The huge car spun briefly out of control, then lunged   
right back into chase with a nerve-grating screech of tires. Right behind the Expedition   
boring down the road with a single-mindedness typical of its driver.  
  
Both vehicles had their police lights flashing, and sirens wailing like banshees,   
proclaiming to one and all that the cops of Cascade was pursuing yet another criminal   
in their rainy city.   
  
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" Blair Sandburg yelled from his shotgun seat.   
He frantically waved at the by-passers with one arm for emphasis while trying not to   
lose his grip against the dashboard. It was all he could do not to tumble about in his   
seat, despite having the seat-belt on.   
  
Blair threw a glance in his partner's direction and swallowed. Jim Ellison was totally   
focused on the white van he was chasing. Underneath the Jags baseball cap, his   
expression was hard and his glare like searing blue laser. But what caused his gulp was   
the fact that Jim was doing two things at once: chasing criminals at breakneck speed   
and barking through the police radio.   
  
"...suspects are armed and dangerous. Repeat: this is Detective James Ellison in pursuit   
of a white goods van. License plate is - "  
  
"Look out!" Blair yelped. Even as the Expedition swerved sharply to avoid hitting a   
pedestrian walking her dog.   
  
"- 325 SGT," Jim continued without missing a beat. "Request backup. Suspects are   
armed and dangerous." He deftly hung the police radio back onto its hook without   
taking his eyes off the fleeing white van. "You all right, Chief?"  
  
"Yeah." Blair's stomach flopped crazily as Jim took another corner hard. *Then again,   
maybe not.*   
  
He had been riding with Jim for almost two years, and he had never once got used to   
these wild car chases his partner seemed so inclined to do. Blair swallowed hard as the   
Expedition shot past a traffic junction, nearly causing a major pileup with cars   
travelling in both adjacent directions. Honks blaring and the shouts of angry drivers   
barely reached his ears as the Expedition swiftly carried them away from the near   
accident.   
  
The brown Buick pulled up on his right, matching speed with the powerful SUV.   
Behind the wheel sat J.E. McKennitt a.k.a Jamie Ellison to an exclusive few. Blair   
glanced in her direction and back at Jim. What he saw convinced him that the crooks   
had no chance in hell of getting away. McKennitt's intense expression of concentration   
and Jim's clenched jaws were so similar in their determination to catch the criminals   
that they could almost be siblings.   
  
Almost. Try blood-related instead.   
  
McKennitt's passenger Doctor Ariel G. Sutherland looked about as tense as he felt.   
Blair could sympathise. Like him, she was also hanging on for dear life despite being   
safely buckled down in her seat.   
  
"Get down!" Jim's arm shot out to yank him down in his seat.   
  
Blair obeyed instantly, his instincts conditioned from hearing that yell of warning too   
many times before.   
  
And just in time too.   
  
The back of the van burst open, revealing two gunmen braced against the frame aiming   
automatic rifles at the two vehicles. Jim hunched down behind his wheel as bullets   
sprayed across the front of the pursuing cars. The onslaught forced both vehicles to   
split apart to either side of the road.   
  
"Shoot at me, why don't cha?" Jim growled, his resentment rising every second. "I just   
got the truck back from the shop, goddamnit!"  
  
Sticking his gun out of the window, Jim fired back. From the other side of the road, he   
heard the answering bark of McKennitt's gun as well. In quick succession, they shot   
the automatic rifle out of gunman's hands and dropped the other with a bullet through   
his chest. Wisely, the first gunman yanked the van doors close against their gunfire.   
  
Jim felt a rush of satisfaction. He wasn't sure who took out the gunman, but it didn't   
matter. What really matter was catching the criminals.   
  
Jim fired another time, this time aiming for one of the rear wheels. With his Sentinel   
sight, he clearly saw the tire being punctured by the bullet. The van spun crazily out of   
control, skidding and sliding across the road, before slamming into the side of a   
building.   
  
The Expedition and Buick pulled up to a less violent halt, cornering the van to cut off   
all venues of escape. Both Sentinels were out of their vehicles in a heartbeat. Guns held   
aloft, they advanced swiftly towards the van.   
  
"Cascade PD!" One hand aiming his gun at the dazed driver, Jim yanked open the   
door. "Get out with your hands in the air!"   
  
By now, several patrol cars have joined them. Jim roughly hauled the driver out of the   
van, giving him no opportunity to put up any resistance and unceremoniously dumped   
him in the uniformed cops' hands.   
  
"Cuff him and read him his rights!" He barked, holstering his gun.   
  
Sandburg, deeming the situation safe, scurried quickly to his side. His dark blue eyes   
were wide with concern. "You all right, Jim?"  
  
"I'm fine." Jim's irritated tone belied his light touch on Blair's arm, an unconscious   
gesture to assure himself that his Guide was unhurt. Then he saw the damage did to his   
beloved truck. "Oh, man. My truck! I just got it back from the shop for only a month   
and now I got to send it back again!"  
  
Blair patted his back in commiseration. He felt pretty awful about the whole thing as   
well. He had grown very fond of the Expedition too. But what can he say? Jim's   
vehicle karma was BAD.  
  
"Yours ain't the only vehicle due for the shop," McKennitt groused darkly. She and   
Ariel joined them, the former holding the gunman's weapon. "My car needs a complete   
makeover."  
  
"And about time too," Ariel added, sounding absolutely unsympathetic. "I can't wait to   
choose a much nicer colour than brown."  
  
McKennitt scowled at her Guide. "What's wrong with brown? It blends."  
  
"It's awful."  
  
"It's my car."  
  
"It's still an awful colour."  
  
"Sounds like your apron, big guy." Blair muttered Sentinel-soft and ducked when Jim   
swatted the back of his head.  
  
"We'll discuss this later," McKennitt told Ariel firmly. She passed the automatic rifle   
she was holding to Jim. "Look at this."  
  
Jim instantly recognised the make of the automatic rifle. "It's military issued."  
  
"Check the bullets."  
  
Jim deftly removed the magazine clip and peered in. A chill ran down his spine.   
"Armour-piercing bullets."  
  
"This is beginning to sound very familiar," Blair commented darkly.  
  
"We better check the van."   
  
The moment he pulled open the panel door, Jim knew they had unwittingly took part in   
something more than just a simple car chase. There were several wooden crates in the   
van, long and rectangular. All of them were sealed. The air inside was thick with the   
smells of gunpowder and blood. But beneath all those was the scent of something else.   
Something that brought back dark memories. Jim immediately took a step back,   
barring Blair's way with an outstretched arm.   
  
"Jim, what is it?" Blair was concerned. Jim's very posture told him his Sentinel was in   
full 'Blessed Protector' mode. He glanced over to McKennitt and was intrigued to see   
a similar kind of response from her.   
  
"Keep back, Blair. I don't want you this close to the van."  
  
Blair obediently took a step back but persisted in asking, "You know what's in there?"   
Jim almost never call him by his first name unless he was concerned about his safety.   
  
"I have a good idea." Jim tugged on the pair of leather gloves he never failed to bring   
with him to anywhere. "J.E., wear your gloves before you touch anything."  
  
"Way ahead of you, Ellison." McKennitt clambered into the van. "This one?"  
  
"Yeah." Jim grasped the other end of the chosen crate. "I need a crowbar."  
  
"There's one in Jamie's car. I'll get it." Ariel volunteered.  
  
Together, both Sentinels carried one of the crates out of the van. With the crowbar   
Ariel brought him, Jim began forcing open the lid. They all watched tersely, the Guides   
not knowing what was inside but sensing from their Sentinel's tension that the contents   
were somehow dangerous.   
  
Jim tossed the lid aside as McKennitt began scooping up handful after handful of   
packing straw. Jim joined her and together they unburied their prize. He immediately   
snatched his hands back as though they were burned.  
  
"Jim?" Now Blair was alarmed. He had never seen his Sentinel react that way before.   
He stepped forward, ignoring Jim's warnings to stay away from the van. Jim hastily   
scrambled to his feet to block his view, but it was too late. Blair caught a glimpse of   
yellow packages, and he turned completely ashen.   
  
"Shit, Jim. That's...is that...Golden?" Blair turned his horrified gaze to his partner,   
mutely pleading with him to correct his realisation.   
  
But Jim's grim expression didn't change at all. With gentle hands, he led his Guide   
away from the van. "I think so, Chief."  
  
"You think so?!" Blair almost shrieked.   
  
"There's something different about this one." Jim turned and clasped Blair firmly by his   
arms, locking eyes with his freaked out Guide. "Sandburg, it's not going to hurt us   
now. I won't let it hurt us. Do you hear me?"  
  
"Yeah, I hear you." Blair took a deep breath, rising one hand to rake through his hair.   
To his dismay, his hand shook visibly. "Think I'll go sit in the truck."  
  
"Okay, you do that." Jim squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before letting go.   
  
"How is he?" Ariel asked worriedly, watching Blair returning silently to the van.  
  
"Shaken. But nothing he can't bounce back from." Unwillingly, Jim directed his gaze   
back down into the crate again.   
  
"Nightmares have a way of returning, doesn't it?" McKennitt's voice was soft and   
understanding.   
  
Jim didn't answer. Instead, he braced himself with a deep breath and reached for one of   
the plastic package. McKennitt's gloved hand shot out to forestall him.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned.   
  
"There's something else in there. Can't you smell it?"  
  
"Yes, I can smell it." McKennitt said sarcastically. Ariel smacked her gently on the arm   
in reproach. Sighing, she softened her tone. "Why don't you let us do the touching,   
grandpa?"  
  
Jim stepped back with a mental sigh of relief. Much as he hate to admit it, it really did   
sound like a good idea. He watched as Ariel began emptying the crate of square plastic   
packages of the yellow powder one after another. He counted up to three before   
realising that McKennitt wasn't touching the stuff either. Absently, he filed away that   
small bit of information.   
  
Ariel removed ten packages of Golden and another layer of packing straw before   
finding what both Sentinels' senses had clued them in. She hesitated, her expression   
sad. "Jamie?"  
  
Now it was McKennitt's turn to reach into the crate and pulled out a long carefully   
wrapped object in plastic. Grim-faced, Jim too lifted a brand-new assault rifle identical   
right down to the wrappings to the one in McKennitt's hands.   
  
"Look like we've just struck double jackpot."  
  
***  
  
"We were heading for that new restaurant down at Chancier Road for lunch when the   
call came over the radio." Jim was saying in the aftermath of the car chase. Now hours   
later, they were in their superior's office, explaining how they managed to get involved   
in some kind of criminal-based activity again. "We didn't know the van was carrying   
drugs and firearms. It was a total fluke."   
  
"Make that second total fluke," Captain Simon Banks injected drolly. "Or have you   
forgotten about the last time you accidentally bust that gunrunner?"  
  
Jim winced. How could he forget? It was the first time he ever received a mother's   
frantic call in the middle of a gunfight. He counted himself extremely lucky not to have   
Naomi skinned him alive for taking Blair into that situation.  
  
"And just what is it with you two anyway?" Simon continued to rant. "You can't go   
anywhere without running straight into trouble."  
  
"What can we say, Simon?" Blair shrugged sheepishly. "It's just karma."  
  
Simon almost rolled his eyes heavenward. Trust the kid to come up with the 'karma'   
explanation, but hell, it made sense. His best detective team was also the most   
troublesome one. One of these days, he swore they were going to drive him to an early   
retirement...in the psyche ward.  
  
His gaze raked over the other two occupants in his office, who so far hadn't said a   
single word since they've entered. McKennitt was seated by the conference table, her   
expression closed.   
  
Doctor Ariel G. Sutherland stood near the windows, staring absently at the city spread   
outside. He wasn't surprised to find her involved in this 'little' car chase. Ever since   
she joined the police force, the new department psychologist had been spending a lot   
of time in Major Crimes, particularly with McKennitt, instead of where she was   
supposed to be working. His cop instincts told him there was definitely something   
going on out there in his bullpen. He ran a discreet background check on Ariel, came   
up with nada, quizzed his best team and concluded they knew something and was not   
telling him. Throw in the fact that his two formerly-at-loggerhead detectives had so   
quickly come to some kind of compromise only made him all the more curious.   
  
Just take this afternoon, for example. Jim and Blair had actually gone out for lunch   
with them. That really shocked him, despite the fact they never made it to the   
restaurant. No one but no one could bury the hatchet and hit it off so fast with Jim   
Ellison.  
  
"And what have you got to say about the incident, McKennitt?" he asked bluntly.  
  
McKennitt shrugged. "Ariel and I were in my car when we got the call too. The four of   
us were nearby and responded. Caught up with the van at Bayside Road and took them   
down minutes later. It'll all be in my report, sir."  
  
Simon stared at her shrewdly for a moment. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jim   
and Blair exchanging glances. There was definitely a mystery here, but one that could   
wait. Crime in Cascade, however, can't.   
  
"I've just talked to Lieutenant Baron from Narcotics. Two weeks ago, Narc received a   
tip off about a big drug exchange going down at Mackenzie Street this morning.   
Lieutenant Baron was put in charge of the operation. According to him, the dealers   
somehow caught wind of their presence and split the scene. His team managed to   
apprehend everyone but four escaped."  
  
"We caught two, and killed one." Jim counted. "So what happened to the fourth one?"   
  
"Baron's men lost him in the sewers."   
  
"Smart crook."  
  
"Does Narcotics know they were dealing with Golden?" Blair asked quietly.  
  
Simon shook his head. "They thought it was heroin. Hell, the additional shipment of   
military firearms took them by surprise."  
  
"Dealers don't usually do drugs and weapons, captain." McKennitt pointed out.   
"Whoever it is, he must be new and...very bold."  
  
"He is." Simon handed a thick stack of folders to Jim. "Here's all the files on this new   
kid on the block. He's been around for a couple of months, but already he has   
established himself as the most dangerous and powerful criminal around. You should   
know him. He calls himself 'The Boss'."   
  
Tense silence descended in his office like a smothering blanket. Blair unconsciously   
edged closer to Jim, whose flexing jaws spoke volume. McKennitt was quivering from   
tightly restrained hatred, and Ariel - pale but still calm - laid a soothing hand on her   
shoulder. Not for the last time, Simon wondered just what kind of beef they had with   
this Boss.   
  
"Is there something you would like to tell me?" The very tone of Simon's voice clearly   
stated it was not a request. His stead gaze travelled from Jim to McKennitt and back.   
Surprisingly, McKennitt averted her gaze from his scrutiny.  
  
"Look," he tried again, "I know there's more to it than what you put down in your   
reports for the double-kidnapping. And I really appreciate it if someone could fill me   
in."  
  
They all remained silent.  
  
"Fine, have it your way." Simon sighed in exasperation. "The mayor, therefore the   
Chief and Commissioner are very concerned about this Boss guy. So I'm setting up a   
task force to nail him. Jim, you'll be in charge. All your other cases will be reassigned.   
I want your full attention on this case. Gather whatever people you need, all   
department resources are at your disposal."  
  
"Well, for starters, I would like to add J.E. and Doctor Sutherland to the task force."  
  
Simon blinked. *Did he just call his ex-rival J.E.?* He directed his thoughtful gaze to   
the women in his office. *Interesting how quickly he ropes the both of them in. But   
still...*   
  
"Can the both of you work together without going for each other's throat?" he asked   
bluntly.   
  
McKennitt nodded. "I can."  
  
"Our relationship is improving," Jim said.  
  
"And you, Doctor Sutherland? Jim, she's not a profiler if that's why you asked for   
her."  
  
"I have the necessary knowledge," Ariel spoke up. "I can help."  
  
"What kind of knowledge?"  
  
Ariel shifted her weight from one foot to another and fibbed. "I was trained to be a   
profiler before I decided on a career change. That should save you the trouble of   
asking the FBI for one."   
  
Simon studied her a moment longer, then eyed Jim questioningly. His detective only   
returned his scrutiny with that bland expression of his. Sighing, he gave in. "All right.   
But I'll need you to do a prisoner transfer with Rafe tomorrow morning, McKennitt.   
Brown called in sick this morning."  
  
"Who's the prisoner?"  
  
"Fillmore. You and Rafe will be escorting to him to the airport with two San Francisco   
detectives. They're bringing him back to stand trial." Simon leaned back in his chair,   
thinking. "What are the chances of the Boss attempting to spring him tomorrow?"  
  
"It's a possibility," Jim admitted. "If the Boss is attempting to widen his horizon, he's   
going to need every man he can get. And what better way to instil loyalty than to be   
there for them?"  
  
"He's got a point," McKennitt agreed.  
  
"All right. I'm going to tighten security for the transfer tomorrow. Rafe will ride   
shotgun with Fillmore, as per SOP. You'll be his backup."  
  
"Can I go along as well?" Ariel blurted out without thinking. Only when she felt   
McKennitt's shoulder tensed beneath her hand did she realise what she said.  
  
Simon stared at her incredulously. "Do you want to explain to me why you should go   
along, Doctor?"  
  
Ariel gulped, quailing a little under his stern gaze. "No, sir. It's just a crazy idea."  
  
"I'm really glad you realised it." Simon smiled brightly at her. "So, Jim, where are you   
going to start?"  
  
"Well, going through these files, for one thing. Get a feel of how the Boss works. Also,   
I'd like to search the van when forensics are through with it and interrogate the perps.   
And Simon, we need to send the Golden down to the labs for analysis. I don't think it   
was the same Golden we encountered the last time."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"It's different somehow. I don't know how to put it."  
  
"All right. I'll put a priority on it. Now go get to work and let me have my office   
back."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Simon watched as the four trooped out of his office. Ariel soon left, probably heading   
for her own desk somewhere else in the building. The other three milled around in the   
bullpen, gathering necessary material before heading for the operations room.   
  
He shook his head. He hadn't missed the little non-verbal by play in his office. The four   
of them were keeping some kind of secret that involved this Boss guy. Normally,   
Simon would let them be, willing to let them decide whether to tell him or not. But   
now the situation was different. McKennitt and Sutherland were too emotionally   
involved, and Jim and Blair weren't helping them to keep their objective. He's going to   
have to keep a very close eye on this case. The Boss was a dangerous opponent. He   
didn't need the issue complicated by some personal vendetta.  
  
***  
  
"That was a careless move in there, Ariel." McKennitt scolded her Guide in the relative   
safety of the operations room. "What were you trying to do? The captain's already   
suspecting something's up. You want to give him some more ammo to work with?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I totally forgot I'm not your partner in this time frame." Ariel shrugged in   
embarrassment. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."  
  
"Why don't you just tell Simon?" Blair asked. "Aren't you tired of tiptoeing around   
him in the bullpen? I know I am, watching the two of you."  
  
"I don't think it's that simple, Chief." Jim said, pouring coffee for all of them.   
  
"It's not," McKennitt replied morosely. "We already broke a cardinal rule when we   
told you the truth." She sat down at the conference table, running a hand through her   
thick black hair. "My job was supposed to be simple. Keep an eye on you until my dad   
is born, and do not interfere no matter what."   
  
"But you interfered," Blair pointed out.  
  
"That's because Boss was still alive and I had to do something to stop him."   
  
"So are all these supposed to happen?" Jim asked. "All these run-ins with the Boss?"   
  
"You know I can't answer that," McKennitt replied.  
  
"It would be nice." She scowled at him. "J.E., the Boss's dangerous. You saw how   
easily he almost got us that night at the water treatment plant. He's up to something,   
and we need every bit of information we can get to nail him."   
  
"All right, all right." McKennitt caved in irritably. "It's all recorded history."  
  
//Jamie!// Ariel was shocked.   
  
Jim studied McKennitt steadily, sensing Ariel's agitation to her reply. "You sure?"  
  
//Not now, pagan.// McKennitt thought back. Without missing a beat, she answered,   
"Yes, I'm sure." Her gaze never wavered under Jim's probing scrutiny. Two could   
play these games.   
  
"Um, I really hate to interrupt." Blair gulped when two pairs of steely eyes swung his   
direction. "But we do have a criminal to catch."  
  
Jim locked gazes with McKennitt one last time. Slowly, in unspoken agreement, they   
both backed down. Reaching for the stack of the folders, Jim began distributing them.   
"Here you go."   
  
Blair stared glumly at his exceptionally thick file. "This is a really thick file, Jim."  
  
"So it is."  
  
"I don't suppose I could —"  
  
"No, Chief. You're my partner, remember?"  
  
"I'm supposed to be observing you, not doing police work."  
  
Jim pushed a steaming mug of coffee over to the younger man. "Then you'll need   
this."  
  
***  
  
Caleb dreaded returning to the Boss's estate. But he had no choice. It was his duty to   
report to the Boss about the botched transaction. Taking several deep breaths to calm   
himself, Caleb nervously smoothed down the front of his dirty suit and made his way   
reluctantly to the study. The Boss was there, deep in discussion with a dark-haired,   
suavely dressed man in his thirties. Caleb thought the man looked vaguely familiar.   
Both of them stopped in mid-discussion when he entered : the Boss with a slight frown   
of displeasure, the man curious.   
  
"What is it, Caleb?" The Boss asked irritably.   
  
"Um..." Caleb's eyes drifted uncertainly at the man seated in one of the leather   
armchairs.   
  
The Boss sighed. "If you would excuse me, Vincent?"  
  
Beckoning Caleb to follow, the Boss led the way into the anteroom of the study,   
carefully shutting the partition doors behind him.   
  
"Now speak."  
  
Among all his subordinates, the handsome young man was the promising. He had   
personally took Caleb off the street, groomed and taught him the ways of running a   
syndicate. Smart, capable and utterly loyal to him (he enforced the loyalty with several   
hypnosis sessions), Caleb was now his right-hand man, replacing Marisa after she got   
herself arrested.  
  
Caleb took another deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves. "We got a problem,   
Boss."  
  
"What kind of problem?"   
  
Caleb swallowed hard. "Um, the police busted the Mackenzie transaction this   
morning."  
  
The Boss didn't react. "How much did we lose?"  
  
"Everything, Boss. All...ten millions' worth of Golden and firearms. The van almost   
got away, but they were stopped."  
  
"And people?"  
  
"Everyone, except me."  
  
The Boss's expression was veiled as always. "How did you manage to escape the   
police's clutches?"  
  
Caleb didn't dare meet his eyes. "I used the sewers, Boss. It took me almost three   
hours to make sure I shook them off."  
  
"The Moroccos will not be pleased with this failed transaction, Caleb. I am not   
pleased. How did the cops find out about the transaction?"  
  
"The leak wasn't from our side, Boss." Caleb was quick to assure him. "I don't know   
about the Moroccos, though."   
  
"It has to come from somewhere." The Boss's eyes narrowed. Caleb found himself   
unable to turn away from that hypnotic gaze. "Was it you?"  
  
"No!" Caleb denied vehemently. "Boss, I swear to you, I'd never betray you."   
  
The Boss held his gaze for a long moment, effortlessly raking through Caleb's mind.   
As usual, when he did that, the young man blanched and turned a sickly green.   
  
"Boss," he protested hoarsely, "please. Stop it. Please."  
  
The Boss cruelly flexed his mental claws one last time to hear Caleb cry out in pain   
before letting the man go. "Find the leak and seal it."  
  
"Yes, Boss."  
  
"And I want the shipment retrieved."  
  
"The shipment is held in the police maximum-security lock-up."  
  
The Boss poured himself a shot of whisky from a crystal carafe. "Even maximum-  
security facilities can be broken in, Caleb. I want the shipment back."  
  
"Yes, Boss. Is there anything else?"   
  
"Who were the cops that stopped the van's getaway?"  
  
"Detectives Ellison and McKennitt, sir."  
  
Sounds of glass shattering. Caleb jumped, eyes widening when he saw the Boss's fist   
drenched in whisky and blood. Crystal shards and whisky covered the expensive carpet   
at his feet. "Boss!"  
  
"Leave me," the Boss ordered. "Have the maid come clean up the mess."  
  
Caleb immediately turned tail and fled the study, oblivious to the man who watched   
him with unconcealed interest.  
  
In the anteroom, the Boss watched in morbid fascination as the cuts on his palm begin   
to heal on its own. With a handkerchief, the Boss wiped his hand clean and returned to   
the study.   
  
"Is everything all right?" the man inquired politely  
  
The Boss smiled. "Everything's just fine, Vincent. Now where were we?"  
  
"The negotiations with the Yakuza."  
  
"Ah, yes. I think Dominic Lazar should head the negotiations. After all, they would not   
trust a newcomer like me. What do you say?"   
  
Vincent smiled thoughtfully. "I think my father would like that."  
  
The Boss beamed.   
  
If things goes well, he planned to be the head of the mob alliance in six months' time.   
In another year or so, he should have consolidated his position well enough to start   
taking control of the Northwest region. And from there, the rest of America.   
  
Life can be so good.  
  
***  
  
Blair rubbed his tired eyes. "How long have we been here?"  
  
"It's almost seven," Ariel replied. She scribbled something onto her notepad and tossed   
aside her pen. "We've been here since two o'clock and two pots of coffee."   
  
"And what did we find out so far?"  
  
Jim began to tick off the list on his fingers. "The Boss is methodical, meticulous,   
diabolical, bold, very creative, way too secretive, always one step ahead of others -   
which can be explained by his knowledge of the future, cooks up elaborate schemes to   
get what he wants, is in the process of controlling the criminal elements in the   
Northwest region, have ties probably all the way up in the government...I need more   
fingers."   
  
"We don't know who are his people, where he's based or what he's going to do next."   
McKennitt raised his arms for a back-breaking stretch and slumped in her chair. "Any   
clues, anybody?"  
  
Ariel sighed. "I wish. My profile of him is as accurate as ever. He's unpredictable. But   
I do have a guess."  
  
Jim poured himself a new mug of coffee. "Let's hear it."  
  
"I think he'll take this botched transaction very personally. Especially if he realised we   
were involved."  
  
"So what are you saying?" Blair questioned.  
  
"He'll retaliate. We can expect a very personal attack very soon. As to what he'll do, I   
honestly don't know."   
  
"But this is personal vendetta," McKennitt spoke up. "What about his business?   
What's his weak spots?"  
  
"We have the firearms and Golden to work with," Jim pointed out. "The firearms are   
military-issued, which won't make it hard to trace. And the ingredients to make   
Golden are very rare and hard to get."   
  
"If we can track down the source and the buyer, we nail him." Blair finished for him.   
  
Blair suddenly recalled something Jim said to him. "Jim, back at the van, what do you   
mean when you told me you thought it wasn't like Golden?"   
  
"It seemed different."  
  
Blair leaned forward, curiosity and excitement lighting up his dark blue eyes. "How   
different? Was it the smell? Or what?"  
  
Jim gestured vaguely with his hands, struggling to describe what he sensed. "It's...it's   
subtle. It's still Golden, but different. Like...like J.E."   
  
McKennitt cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Just bear with me, all right. Everybody has their own individual scent. But blood-  
related people's scents are similar. Like you and Naomi, Simon and his son, me and   
J.E.."  
  
"Wow," Blair muttered in awe. "You can actually tell blood relations by scent alone?"  
  
Jim squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, somewhat embarrassed by his partner's sheer   
admiration. "It's hard, and not unless I know what to smell for."  
  
"I know that, but still...wow."   
  
"So what you're saying is the drug is a different...," Ariel groped for the right word,   
"strain?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"This is all very interesting," McKennitt interjected impatiently. "But can we focus   
here? The Boss needs a place to manufacture this new brand of Golden. We got to find   
it."   
  
"It's most likely have to be some kind of chemical laboratory somewhere, isolated   
enough not to draw attention and high-tech enough to manufacture the drug." Jim was   
thoughtful. "We need to search the databases for all abandoned chemical plants or labs   
in Cascade. We also need to talk to all our sources, find out what they know."  
  
"That's a lot of work," Blair commented. "I don't know about you guys, but I think   
it's best we start this fresh in the morning."  
  
Ariel smiled tiredly. "Best suggestion I've heard so far. Dinner first, then home?"  
  
"Sounds great." Jim began to tidy up the folders spread all over the table. McKennitt   
pitched in, removing the mugs and coffee pot. "Chinese? My treat."  
  
***  
  
Jim was worried about his roommate. Ever since they discovered the resurfacing of   
Golden, Blair had been subdued, quiet. He had no doubt that old nightmares were   
making their presence felt again.   
  
So he monitored his Guide carefully throughout the day. In Simon's office, during their   
painstaking search through the cases and during dinner as well. Blair showed no sign of   
discarding his brooding state, except that one time discussing his senses in the   
Operations room. That made Jim nervous. Blair doesn't brood; Jim does. When they   
finally got home, and Blair took a beer from the fridge and went out to the balcony, he   
decided to do something about it.  
  
"You all right, Chief?" he asked, joining Blair on the balcony.  
  
"Not really." Blair took a swing of his beer as Jim waited patiently. "I thought we were   
through with Golden. That we don't have to do this again. Once was bad enough   
already. I can still remember the Fire People, Jim."   
  
His Sentinel blanched.  
  
"And that's all I could remember. Everything else was so hazy. I couldn't remember   
that I was taking pot shots in the department garage with your backup piece. That I   
almost set the whole place on fire. That I was aiming your gun at you. Man, I'm   
surprised the brass didn't revoke my credentials after that incident."   
  
"Who told you?" Jim asked in a hushed whisper.  
  
"Simon did. I begged him to tell me," Blair added quickly, forestalling the anger he   
could sense rising in Jim. "When I came round in the hospital and saw you looking like   
hell warmed over, guarding my bedside, I knew I had to find out what happened. You   
refused to say anything, so I had to ask him. He almost threw me out of his office, but   
I had my ways. So don't you go giving him a piece of your mind."  
  
Jim smiled wryly. "I won't, Chief. After all, he pulled strings to keep you in the   
department."  
  
It was Blair's turn to be surprised. "He did, huh? Guess I owe him one."   
  
"We both do, shorty."  
  
They fell silent again, enjoying their beer and the quiet night. Then Blair spoke again.  
  
"Jim, we can't let Golden and military firearms hit the streets again. We have to stop   
the Boss."  
  
"We will." To Jim, it was a statement of fact.  
  
"But I'm afraid to go up against him. Do you still remember what he did to you that   
night at the water treatment plant?" Blair shuddered. "He made you lose control of   
your senses, just by talking to you. I had to threaten to take my own life just to stop   
him. God, I so do not want to do that again."  
  
"But you beat him at his own game. Even though you were scared like hell and he's   
got this talent for shamanism."  
  
"Shamanism?" Blair was startled. "He's a Shaman, like Ariel?"  
  
Jim stared at him. "You didn't know?"   
  
"No, I don't. How did you know?"  
  
"When the Chopec took me in, I lived with the shaman of the tribe. Their styles'   
different, but I can identify a shaman when I see one."   
  
"Oh boy," Blair muttered. "Now I'm terrified. We're probably dealing with evil   
shamans. I'm an anthropologist, I study tribal cultures, and shamans - good and evil -   
featured a prominent spot in their beliefs. Evil shamans are like the devil-worshippers   
with real power, big guy."   
  
Jim didn't know what to say. He was too busy trying to digest this newest bit of   
information.   
  
"You don't think Ariel knew about the Boss being a shaman, do you?" Blair asked   
abruptly.  
  
They stared at each other, seeing the questions and certainties in each other's eyes.   
  
"I think," Jim replied slowly, "we need to have a long talk with them first thing in the   
morning."   
  
"Oh, definitely."  
  
***  
  
Somewhere else in Cascade, McKennitt has barely stepped over the threshold of the   
apartment she shared with Ariel when her Guide pounced on her.  
  
"Why did you tell them it was recorded history when it's so obviously not?" she   
demanded.   
  
"They didn't have to know." McKennitt headed for her bedroom. "I get the bathroom   
first."  
  
She trailed after her. "Jamie -"   
  
"Ariel, it's for their own good." McKennitt closed the bathroom door in her face.  
  
Ariel scowled at the varnished bathroom door, arms crossed and one foot tapping   
impatiently on the floor. She could hear the sounds of the shower running.   
  
//A closed door and running shower ain't going to stop this conversation, Jamie.//  
  
//Never even cross my mind, pagan. It was the right thing to do.//  
  
//You mean lying to someone who's trying not to get on your nerves?//  
  
McKennitt yanked open the door, wrapped in a towel sarong-style, catching Ariel off-  
guard. Hair plastered down wetly, the Eurasian Sentinel nailed her Guide with a   
glower. Ariel bit her lip, sensing somehow she had pushed too far.  
  
"Ariel, before you time-travelled, did you undergo that required six-month training?"  
  
"No. I had to do something fast to save your life from that bomb, remember?"   
  
McKennitt's glower turned exasperated. "We're dealing with time-travel. Spending six   
months in training won't stop you from still saving me in the nick of time."  
  
"Your point being?"  
  
"My point being there are rules when it comes to time-travel. That's why I was   
required to undergo the training session, so they can pound those rules into my head. I,   
we, broke one of the rules when we told them our identities. I did it knowingly because   
I couldn't find any other way to save you and Professor Sandburg. You, because you   
were delirious and didn't know about the rules. We can't compound that mistake by   
telling them bits and pieces of the future. It'll change everything."  
  
Ariel looked at her sombrely. "Everything's already changing, Jamie. Or haven't you   
notice it?"  
  
"I have. I've even seen it in my dreams. That's why I've to lie to them to protect the   
future, friends or no friends. Both of them see too much. Do you understand?"  
  
Ariel sighed. "When you put it like that, how can I say I don't?"  
  
McKennitt smiled. "Good. Now can I have my bath in peace?"  
  
"Just save me some hot water."  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
INTERLUDE  
  
Alien land, alien sky.   
  
So different from the forested world he knew so intimately. Here, even at night, there   
was light. A different kind of light that set the sky aglow and drowned out the   
glittering stars. And the air smelled so bad, so...impure. A smell that constantly   
reminded him why he and his fellow tribesmen braved the horrors of the vast salty   
waters to travel to this alien land.  
  
Incacha shivered, unused to the cold. He longed to see the sun, feel the humid air of   
the rain forest on his skin, but his home was far, far away.  
  
He was the Shaman of his tribe, the wisest of them. Most importantly, he was the only   
one of the small band of hand-chosen warriors who knew anything about their   
destination. Enqueri had told him much about this cold sunless land. Yet, for all his   
mental preparation, it did nothing to cushion the shock.  
  
Turning away from the grimy window, Incacha returned to the small campfire,   
welcoming the heat. The other Chopec warriors, save one, had already bedded down   
for the night. He nodded a goodnight to the one standing watch before lying down on   
the cold hard floor. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to prevent the chill from seeping   
into his bones.   
  
Closing his eyes, Incacha fell asleep immediately and began to dream...  
  
***  
  
He was back in the jungle again. Wearing the same black clothes. Standing in front of   
the stone temple and his Spirit Guide pacing agitatedly on the stone alter.  
  
His Spirit Guide. The black panther stopped its restless pacing, facing him with its   
bright yellow eyes. It roared once.  
  
"What?" He asked. "What are you trying to tell me?"  
  
The black panther merely shook its head, then morphed into the shape of a man. He   
gaped at the image, recognising the war-painted face.   
  
"Incacha?"  
  
His Spirit Guide showed no signs of recognition at that name. "Why do you not   
protect your tribe?"   
  
"I don't understand. Am I not protecting my tribe everyday?"  
  
His Spirit Guide pointed to the sky again. He didn't have to look to know the strange   
phenomenon was still in play. "Danger approaches, Sentinel."  
  
Look like they were back to square one. "What danger? To whom? From where?"   
  
"The paths of time are unravelling."  
  
"I don't understand. You got to tell me more than that." He didn't really expect his   
Spirit Guide to, though. The cat was notorious for keeping certain information to   
itself.  
  
To his surprise, his Spirit Guide told him something new. "Only you and your unborn   
child can right the wrong again."  
  
"What?" He was confused. His Spirit Guide began to morph again. "Wait! I don't   
understand!"  
  
With a roar, his Spirit Guide leapt off the alter and vanished into thin air.  
  
***  
  
Jim jerked awake, drenched in sweat despite the night chill. Too uneasy to get back to   
sleep, he slid out of bed. Pulling on a robe, he padded quietly down the stairs to the   
kitchen for a drink of water. He needed it, while he sort out his dreams.   
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
DAY TWO  
  
As always, it took a hot shower and freshly brewed coffee before Blair finally   
overcame the shock of waking up in the morning. The moment he was alert, Blair   
noticed the fine lines of exhaustion lining his roommate's face, and the troubled look in   
those glacial-blue eyes. Alarm bells sounded in his mind. There was only one reason for   
his partner to look slightly worse for wear in the morning.   
  
"Sleepless night?" he asked, timing his question to catch Jim trying to hide a yawn.  
  
"So-so," Jim hedged.  
  
"Bad dreams?" Blair guessed.  
  
Jim started to say no, then changed his mind. In a way, it was like having bad dreams.   
"Comes with the job."  
  
"Sorry, Jim."  
  
Jim blinked, the apology catching him completely off guard. "Sorry for what?"  
  
"For eating that pizza. I don't know why I did that. I mean, it's the pie of death and I   
usually avoid eating it. But that night, I don't know why I ate it. Then again, even if   
I'm a pizza lover, I should be suspicious of the delivery. I mean, the Chief of Police   
wasn't the kind of person to treat an entire unit to a stackful of pizzas. That would be   
like showing favouritism, man. I can't believe —"  
  
"Chief," Jim interrupted, "you don't have to apologise for that."  
  
Blair stared at him, mouth still open as his sentence died halfway.   
  
"You couldn't have known the pizza was laced with Golden. Neither could you have   
known the whole delivery was a trap. You were as much as a victim as I was to that   
drug. So stop beating yourself up over it."  
  
"Okay," Blair replied slowly.  
  
"Besides, what does Golden have to do with me not sleeping well last night?"   
  
"Well, I figured the resurfacing of Golden had something to do with your bad dreams   
last night."  
  
"No, it doesn't."  
  
"It doesn't, huh?"  
  
Jim nodded, chewing a mouthful of bread. He watched as Blair pondered over this new   
revelation. The kid was so transparent. He could practically see every thought made   
itself known on his face, and pinpointed the exact moment Blair decided to ask him:   
"So what did you dream?"  
  
Jim chuckled inwardly. Then he sobered, trying to find a way to describe his dreams   
without Blair going all 'Freud' on him.   
  
"I can't remember much of it," he began. "But I think it has something to do with   
time."  
  
"Oh, man. What else can you remember?"  
  
Jim shrugged, not meeting his roommate's eyes. "That's about it."  
  
Blair stared steadily at his partner. After nearly two years of bunking with the man, he   
had learnt to read the minute expressions in that granite face. "What else, Jim?"  
  
Jim sighed, seeing no way out of this fix. "I saw the panther in my dreams again."  
  
"Really?" Blair started to bounce excitedly in his chair. "Was it in the jungle? Did you   
see any stone temple, or was it the altar? What did the cat say? Was the vision some   
kind —"  
  
Jim held up his hands to forestall the bombardment. "Whoa, slow down, Chief. One   
question at a time, okay?"  
  
"Jim, I'm dying of suspense here."   
  
"It was in the jungle," Jim began.   
  
It was probably the only way to shut him up and it worked. Blair fell silent, leaning   
forward eagerly to catch every word he said. His dark blue eyes sparkled with that   
intent excited light Jim had come to associate with the scientist in him.   
  
"I was running after the panther. It was leading me to somewhere, a stone altar, I   
think."  
  
"And?" Blair prompted.  
  
"And when I reached the altar, the panther began to —"  
  
The shrill sound of the phone ringing interrupted Jim's sentence. Blair groaned, just   
knowing Jim would take this opportunity to change the subject. He scowled at his   
partner reaching for the cordless phone with an apologetic look.  
  
"Ellison." Blair watched as Jim broke out into a wide grin. "Hi, Sneaks!"  
  
Blair groaned again, dropping his head onto the tabletop. Jim reached over and patted   
his head comfortingly, even as he listened to what Sneaks was telling him.   
  
"I'll be there in twenty." Jim disconnected the line and regarded his partner with an   
amused eye. "Feel up to a little meeting, Chief?"  
  
Blair lifted his head inches off the tabletop and eyed him suspiciously. "Whose sneakers   
this time?"  
  
"Well, since I don't wear sneakers..." Jim's voice trailed off suggestively.  
  
Blair glowered at him. "You owe me, big guy."  
  
"I'll get you a new pair."  
  
"Which I probably wouldn't get to wear it."  
  
Jim chuckled, raising from the dining table. "You wanna wrap your bagel in something,   
so you can eat it along the way?"  
  
"Nah, I'm about to finish." Blair hastily wolfed down the last bits of his bagel. "What   
about you?"  
  
"I'll get a doughnut at the diner."  
  
"Doughnut? Jim, how could you eat doughnuts for breakfast?"  
  
Jim shrugged on his navy-blue jacket. "Why not?"   
  
Blair shook his head. "It's amazing how you could eat all that junk and still remain   
healthy."  
  
Jim laughed, pulling open the door. "Let's go, Chief."   
  
"Just let me get an extra pair of shoes first."  
  
"Don't forget to bring your keys."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."   
  
***  
  
Sneaks was already waiting for them as they stepped into the diner. The informer with   
the taste for sneakers grinned broadly, waving to them. Jim couldn't help but grin back   
at the irrepressibly happy informer.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey!" Sneaks greeted. "How are you, Ellison?"   
  
"Just fine and dandy." Jim took the seat next to him. He gestured to Blair. "You met   
him the last time."  
  
Sneaks smiled at the wary Blair. "Wonderful sneakers, man. Feel like I'm walking on   
air."  
  
"Glad you enjoyed them," Blair replied without much enthusiasm. He took a   
surreptitious look at Sneaks' feet. "So where's my sneakers?"  
  
"Oh, here and there, you know..." Sneaks said vaguely. Then he brightened, hastily   
turning his attention to Jim. "Guess what news I got for you."  
  
"What news?" Jim played along, even though he was aware of Blair's killer glower   
aimed at Sneaks.  
  
Sneaks leaned towards him and said in an exaggerated whisper, "Golden."  
  
"Golden, huh?" Jim kept the smile on his face. Sneaks always react better to a positive   
reaction. "Thought we wiped the stuff off the streets the last time."  
  
"But it's back," Sneaks laughed, smacking Jim on the back. "Guess your hunch really   
paid off, Ellison."  
  
*Hunch?* Blair looked quizzically at Jim. Jim couldn't have told Sneaks about the new   
batch of Golden; he was stuck to his Sentinel like glue these few days. So when did   
Jim send out the request?  
  
"Spill the news, Sneaks. Don't keep us in suspense," Jim cajoled.  
  
Sneaks got a sudden speculative look on his face. Blatantly, he ducked a look at both   
their feet and let out a whistle. When he looked up again, there was a covet gleam in   
his eyes. Blair could almost see him drooling. "Those are great sneakers."   
  
"Like them, huh?" Jim smirked. "Latest from Nike."  
  
"For them, I would tell you everything I know."  
  
*Know you would,* Jim thought as he grinned at his informer. Sneaks leaned forward.   
This time, both detective and observe also leaned forward.  
  
"Okay, this is what I know. A few months back, this guy came out from nowhere and   
assumed control of the street gangs. And I mean from nowhere. No one had ever heard   
of him. He just popped up like jack-in-the-box and asserted his authority."  
  
Jim and Blair exchanged a glance. They knew who he was talking about.   
  
"Next thing you know, he's making deals with big drug dealers and mobs, and had his   
hands in everything. There's nothing he won't touch. Word as it he's negotiating a   
kind of criminal alliance with all the mobs across the world."  
  
They exchanged an alarmed look. A crime alliance was Bad News.  
  
"Any idea who's helping him with this alliance thing?" Jim asked, all serious now.  
  
"Not really. But I hear things, you know. Rumours. Some said it was the Yakuza,   
some said it was the Lazar family, I dunno."  
  
Jim mentally filed away that small tidbit of information. Be it the Yakuza or Lazar, it   
was still bad news. "And Golden?"  
  
"He started manufacturing the yellow stuff about a month back," Sneaks informed   
them. "Was going to sell the first batch to the Moroccos when the cops busted it."  
  
"Did you hear anything about this new Golden?" Blair asked. "You know, how it was   
different from the previous source?"  
  
"Nope, nothing like that."   
  
"What about locations? Any idea where it was manufactured?" Jim added.  
  
Sneaks frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not sure if this might be it, but word on the   
streets has it that the stuff was manufactured in a hidden lab out in the forests."  
  
"The forests?" Blair repeated.  
  
"Yep, you got that right." Sneaks grinned at him. "So did I earn my keep or what?"  
  
Jim pulled out his wallet. Once again, he lets Sneaks grab a couple of bills from his   
wallet and indicated to Blair to take off his sneakers. His partner was way ahead of   
him, handing his pair over to the ecstatic Sneaks, who immediately put them on and   
trotted jauntily out of the diner with a cheerful goodbye.  
  
"So was his information any help?" Blair couldn't help but ask sarcastically as he   
pulled out a pair of boots from his backpack.  
  
"Some," Jim shrugged. He chewed on a mouthful of doughnut. "The crime alliance's   
something new. Got to tell Simon about it. Probably the FBI too. If the criminals are   
forming some kind of alliance, we're in deep shit."   
  
"What did Sneaks mean about your hunch?"   
  
"Well, after that last brush with Golden, I got Sneaks to keep his eyes and ears out for   
designer drugs on the street. Figured it wouldn't be the last time such things cross our   
paths."  
  
"With our kind of luck?" Blair pointed out wryly. "Glad to see your hunch paid off in   
spades."  
  
"I'll be happier if it didn't."  
  
***  
  
McKennitt was not having a good morning.   
  
Ever since they reached the prison to escort Fillmore to the airport, the perp had been   
smirking non-stop. It was that kind of smirk that practically screamed 'I know   
something that you don't.' It got on her nerves and all she wanted to do is wrap her   
fingers around the smug bastard's skinny neck. If they were in the primitive age, she   
reflected sourly, she would've done it a long time ago.   
  
Rafe was keeping his calm. Among all the detectives in Major Crimes, he was the most   
mild-tempered. Perhaps that's why Simon chose him to be handcuffed to Fillmore on   
the way to the airport. But mild-tempered or not, the young detective could feel   
McKennitt's displeasure simmering. She was too quiet as she drove his sedan to the   
airport, trailed by the two visiting detectives from SFPD in their rental. Occasionally,   
she glanced into rear view mirror, checking on their prisoner. When that happened,   
Fillmore simply smirked at her. Rafe soon found himself praying that Fillmore would   
stop taunting her. Everyone knows her fuse was as short as Simon's pet pit bull a.k.a.   
Jim Ellison.  
  
McKennitt breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they reached the airport without   
incident. But she was by no means relaxed. She got a bad feeling about this extradition,   
aggravated by Fillmore's constant smirking. Tense and edgy, she kept Fillmore   
between Rafe and her as they made their way to the departure hall, letting the visiting   
detectives to bring up the rear.   
  
All around her, she could see the added security stationed at the airport. There were   
several airport security officers unobtrusively keeping their eyes on them. And she   
spotted several plains-clothes detectives positioned throughout the lobby.  
  
"Looks like the captain really went all out for this extradition," Rafe commented softly.   
"Are we expecting trouble?"  
  
"Just keep your eyes sharp," McKennitt advised.   
  
Fillmore smirked. She was really beginning to get tired of that expression. "All the   
King's horses and all the King's men," he sang, "couldn't stop the Boss from getting   
his way."  
  
Rafe grimaced.  
  
Casually, McKennitt placed her hand on the place between his neck and his shoulder   
and applied pressure. Fillmore squeaked in pain, shrinking away from her touch. She   
didn't let go, simply smiled pleasantly at him.   
  
It was Rafe's turn to smirk.  
  
Soon it was time to board the plane. With obvious relief, Rafe relinquished Fillmore   
over to the SFPD detectives. The younger of the pair handcuffed himself to the perp   
while his partner thanked them for their help.   
  
"Well, that's the last of him we'll see in a long while." Rafe said when the extradition   
trio disappeared from view.  
  
"I can't believe it went so smoothly," McKennitt muttered.  
  
Rafe looked at her. "You were expecting trouble, weren't you?"  
  
"Damn right I was." McKennitt shook her head, ponytail swinging lightly. "It shouldn't   
have gone this smoothly."  
  
"Don't look a horse gift in the mouth, J.E. That's what H always tells me."  
  
They turned away and walked back through the departure hall for the parking lots.   
McKennitt was still unconvinced and she scanned the departure hall with her senses,   
probing for would-be disturbance. Then she heard it: a security guard's whispered   
alarm at the departure gate, and then louder, a shout.   
  
"He's got a gun!" The explosion of a machine gun drowned out the guard's shout of   
warning.   
  
"Jesus!" Rafe swore, seeing the berserking passenger opening fire at everyone around   
him with a vengeance.   
  
"Get down!" McKennitt yanked the young detective down behind a row of plastic   
chairs, just as the spray of bullets swung in their direction.  
  
Rafe was horrified to see several innocent passer-bys dropping to the floor, bleeding.   
"He's crazy!"  
  
McKennitt knelt up, raising her gun above the edge of the plastic chairs. The moment   
she got a clear shot, she didn't hesitate. Gunfire died abruptly as the berserker   
crumpled to the ground.   
  
Warily, they approached the felled gunman, flashing their badges at the agitated   
guards. Rafe knelt down and felt his neck. He looked up at McKennitt with something   
close to awe. There was only one other person he knew who could make a shot like   
that.   
  
"He's dead."  
  
"I know." McKennitt scanned the place littered with the wounded and dead. "Help   
these people, Rafe. I'm going to check on our friends from San Francisco."  
  
McKennitt didn't wait for a reply and took off in the direction of the departure lounge.   
She had been keeping track of the extradition trio with her hearing even before the   
massacre, so she knew where they would be. She had also heard what sounded like a   
scuffle, almost drowned out by the gunfire.   
  
Heart pounding, McKennitt skidded to a halt when she saw the limp bodies on the   
ground. Two of them were the visiting detectives, the third an airport security guard.   
The security guard was stirring feebly.  
  
McKennitt hurried forward to help, even as she probed her surroundings for the   
missing fugitive. "Cascade PD. Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah," gasped the security guard. "Just a hell of a headache."   
  
McKennitt checked on the visiting detectives. One of them was dead, the second   
bleeding profusely from his side. Kneeling down, she tried to staunch the bleeding with   
her suit jacket.  
  
"The airport medics will be here very soon," the security guard staggered over to her.   
  
"Fillmore," the wounded detective croaked. "He...he..."  
  
"I know." She had seen the broken end of his handcuffs dangling from his wrist. "Can   
you take over?"  
  
"What do I do?" the guard asked.  
  
"Press this against the wound to slow down the bleeding," McKennitt instructed.   
"Keep the pressure until the medics arrive."  
  
Raising to her feet, McKennitt stretched out her senses. Smell of gunpowder, blood   
and fear. People moaning in pain and distress. The sound of feet running down the   
stairs, metal clicking on metal.   
  
*There!*  
  
McKennitt took off in the direction of the fire escape. Bursting through the steel door,   
she peered over the railing and saw two men running. She gave chase, taking two steps   
at a time.   
  
Down, down, they went. They were headed straight for the basement parking.   
Charging through the door, McKennitt saw the fugitive and his accomplice split up and   
fled in different directions. She didn't have to choose; she went right after Fillmore.   
She raced after the fleeing fugitive, nimbly negotiating her way through and on top of   
the rows of parked cars.   
  
"Freeze!" she yelled. Then she waited for a beat and opened fire.   
  
Fillmore went sprawling onto the ground. Curling on the ground, he clutched at his   
wounded thigh in agony. McKennitt advanced towards him, gun trailing steadily on the   
fugitive.   
  
"You hit me!"   
  
"Shouldn't have ran," McKennitt told him bluntly. "Now lay down on your stomach   
and spread out your limbs."  
  
Something pricked her in the neck. Flinching, McKennitt reached out and felt her skin.   
Her hand came away with a tranquilliser dart.   
  
"Goddamn it." Whirling around, she pointed her gun at the shooter approaching her   
with a tranquilliser gun in hand. Already, her sight was beginning to blur. "Put down   
your weapon."  
  
Caleb smiled contemptuously. "Give it a rest, detective. You're not going anywhere."  
  
McKennitt wavered, gun falling to the ground with a clatter. Her arm was so heavy   
and nerveless. She staggered away from them, digging her fingernails into her palms,   
trying desperately to keep awake. But even all her Sentinel techniques of using pain to   
counter the drowsiness failed.   
  
//Ariel...//   
  
***  
  
Simon looked up from his perusal of the crime scene, as the Expedition pulled into an   
empty lot in the basement parking. Surprisingly, only Blair aligned from the truck and   
hurried over to him, ducking beneath the yellow police line.   
  
"Where's Jim?"  
  
"He's taking a look at the departure hall first," replied Blair breathlessly. "Said he   
could smell the blood and gunpowder even from outside. There he is."  
  
Simon turned to see Jim stepping out of the elevator and striding rapidly towards them.   
Even from a distance, he could see the Sentinel's jaws grinding overtime. Behind him,   
trailed Rafe, clothes stained with blood and still somewhat shell-shocked.  
  
"What is he doing here?" Simon muttered, seeing his young detective approaching.   
"He should be at home, anywhere but here."  
  
"It's a blood bath up there, Simon." Jim said without preamble, his voice coloured with   
restrained rage and sorrow. "Sixteen dead, and thirty wounded. The only good thing is   
the berserker's dead."  
  
"It was a massacre, pure and simple." Rafe's voice was still very shaky.   
  
Simon looked hard at his youngest detective. It was plain to everyone that Rafe was   
still in a turmoil about the bloody event. "I thought I told you to go home."  
  
"McKennitt's missing, sir. I can't..." Rafe's voice trailed off, gaze travelling to a point   
behind his captain. His stricken expression twisted even more.   
  
When they turned to see what he was looking at, they saw Ariel racing towards them.   
Her blue eyes were wild and there was a look bordering on sheer panic on her face.   
Simon quickly moved to intercept her, thinking she was going to tear into Rafe -   
something the badly shaken detective did not need. But he was wrong. She made a   
beeline straight for Jim.   
  
"Jim!" The words tumbled out of her in a rush. "You got to help Jamie! She's in   
trouble! The Boss took her! You got to help her!"  
  
"Calm down, Ariel." He soothed, placing his hands on her forearms. "I know she's in   
trouble. We'll find her. And calm down. You're not doing her any good falling to   
pieces."  
  
Ariel shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "I'm calm, I'm calm," she muttered it   
over and over like a mantra.   
  
Jim hugged her, trying to transfer comfort and some of his confidence to the terrified   
Guide. She burrowed her face into his chest, grateful for his support. "We'll find her,"   
he murmured softly. "I won't rest until I find her."  
  
Ariel nodded against his jacket. "Thank you," she whispered too soft for anyone but   
him to hear.  
  
Above her head, Jim noticed Rafe's anguish and guilt. Effortlessly, he caught Blair's   
eyes. Realising what his partner wanted him to do, Blair gently took the young   
detective aside. He may not qualify as a psychologist, but he knew how to soothe a   
tortured soul in his own way.  
  
"Good job, Jim." Simon said once they were out of earshot. "Letting Blair handle   
Rafe."   
  
Ariel raised her head, chagrin clear on her face. "Rafe! I forgotten all about him. God,   
he must be blaming himself for Jamie's disappearance right now and I dashing into here   
like a madwoman didn't help anything. I better go over to the poor man."  
  
"No," Jim replied. "If you go over now, he's going to bury himself deeper in his guilt.   
He knows how close you are to McKennitt. Let Blair talk to him."  
  
Ariel looked at him oddly. "Are you sure you aren't a psychologist, Jim?"  
  
The Sentinel merely smiled at her. "I've been in his shoes before." Turning to Simon,   
who watched their by-play speculatively, he asked, "what happened here, sir?"   
  
"Right now, we're calling it a kidnapping. From what we can put together, an   
accomplice attacked the SFPD detectives, killed one and seriously wounded the other   
before freeing Fillmore." Simon passed two evidence bags over to Jim. "That's   
McKennitt's gun. The other is a tranquilliser dart."  
  
"So one of them managed to get the jump on her, tranquillised her with this and   
whisked her away." Jim opened the evidence bag containing the dart and sniffed.   
"Smells like the dart Cromwell's men got me with."  
  
Simon stared at him, surprised to see him displaying his Sentinel abilities so openly in   
front of another person. What made him even more intrigued was that Ariel was not   
asking him about the apparent feat.  
  
Jim handed the evidences back to Simon and proceeded to the crime scene, the captain   
and Ariel two steps behind him.   
  
"What about the carnage in the departure hall?" the detective asked. "Any idea who's   
the killer?"  
  
"We won't be able to identify him until later today. I've told forensics and the coroner   
to put a rush on things." Simon shook his head, appalled at the state of things. "I know   
Cascade's a dangerous place, but this..."  
  
"It's worse because it had never happened here before." Jim finally stopped walking   
and knelt down. "Just keep Sandburg away from there. He doesn't have to see the   
place."  
  
"Hell, I wish I don't have to see the place." Simon watched as Jim rubbed a dark spot   
on the cement. "What did you find?"  
  
"Blood. Fresh."   
  
"She was hurt?" Ariel interjected anxiously.  
  
"It's not hers." Jim stood up and searched for one of the forensic people. "Hey, Bob,   
can you take a sample of this?"  
  
"No problem."  
  
"You know, Simon, I've this feeling that both incidents are connected."  
  
Simon stared at him. "What? Are you trying to tell me that whoever's behind this   
engineered a massacre upstairs to distract the security, so Fillmore can escape and   
kidnap one of my detectives at the same time?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Jim, who would be insane or cruel enough to kill tens of people for a distraction?"  
  
"The Boss," Ariel replied softly.  
  
"You absolutely sure it was him?"  
  
Jim's glacial-blue eyes were flat with anger. "Like you said, who would be cruel and   
insane enough?"  
  
***  
  
McKennitt shook off the residue effects of the tranquilliser and carefully rolled to her   
side. The floor beneath her cheek was hard metal. A quick internal check revealed that   
she had no other injuries, save for the swollen part on her neck where the dart had hit   
her. The good thing was she still had her clothes, minus the duster. The bad thing she   
was missing her backup piece and switchblade.   
  
There was no doubt that she was imprisoned, and she knew very well who was behind   
it. The only problem was she had no idea where she was held.   
  
Lying still, she let her senses explore the place for her. Her sensitive skin told her that   
wherever she was, it was cool but not cold. But the air was very still. Her nose stung   
from the sterile antiseptic smell lingering in the air. Other than herself, there was no   
other scents in the air.   
  
*They must've cleaned the place thoroughly.*   
  
She could hear nothing outside the place she was locked in, except the soft distant   
murmur of machinery at work. Finally, she opened her eyes and was surprised to find   
herself in total darkness.   
  
*What the —*  
  
McKennitt sat up, unfolding her limbs. She grunted in pain as her head bumped against   
the top and knocked her toes against the side. Stretching out her arms, she cautiously   
felt the walls enclosed all around her. Her throat began to constrict as the realisation   
dawned rapidly upon her.   
  
A black box.  
  
She was locked in a goddamned black box.   
  
Inhaling a deep breath to steady her nerves, McKennitt immediately concentrated on   
finding a way out of the black box. There was no way she's going to be imprisoned in   
one of these contraptions.   
  
Light suddenly streamed through the rows of tiny air-holes near the top of the black   
box. McKennitt gasped in pain, covering her sensitive eyes from the sudden brilliance.   
It was a while before her eyes could adjust to the light.   
  
There was a tap on the roof of the black box.   
  
"Hello, Jamie." A genteel voice spoke from outside, muffled somewhat by the black   
box.  
  
She froze, recognising that voice. "Hell of a way to free your man, Dylan." She   
managed to say calmly. "Letting a berserker loose in the airport, I mean."  
  
"It sure got your attention, didn't it? And I bet your grandfather's as well."  
  
"There're less costly ways of getting our attention, you know." She said   
conversationally, still cautiously feeling the edges of the black box for the opening.   
  
"You can stop searching for the way out, Jamie. There isn't any." *Damn him, he   
must've read my mind.*   
  
"Very useful skill to have," the Boss laughed, proving beyond doubt that he could read   
her mind.   
  
"What did you do? Bolt me inside this black box?" Sarcasm dripped from McKennitt's   
words.  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"What do you want?"   
  
"Payback. Vengeance is a better word though. You cost me several millions when you   
busted that shipment yesterday. It doesn't make me happy."  
  
"It makes me happy," she retorted. "So is this your idea of punishment? I must say I'm   
disappointed. I expect more from you."  
  
"Don't be impatient," she could hear the smirk in his voice. "The best has yet to   
come."  
  
McKennitt bit her lips, not liking the sound of that. She did not say anything as she   
listened to the departing footsteps of the Boss. Once she was sure he was gone, she   
began to seek the opening of the black box. This time, more urgently.   
  
Whatever the Boss had in mind for her, she's sure as hell didn't want to stay around   
for it.   
  
***  
  
It was hours later when Blair reached Simon's office. Jim and Ariel were already there,   
apparently in the middle of some discussion. They looked up when he entered.   
  
"Rafe's going to be all right," he replied in answer to their unspoken concern.   
"Brown's with him right now. The last I saw before I left Rafe's place was Brown   
actually cooking lunch for him. He may have to visit the department psychologist a few   
times, but he's going to be fine."  
  
Simon was relieved. "That's good news."   
  
"I'll set up an appointment for him," Ariel stated.  
  
"Anything so far?" Blair perched himself on the edge of the conference table beside   
Jim, ignoring Simon's disapproving frown.   
  
"The analysis on the Golden just came back from the lab." Jim handed a folder over to   
his partner. "It's a different strain of the drug, all right."  
  
Blair flipped open the folder. "How different?"  
  
"All the ingredients used to make Golden were same," Simon said, "but there was one   
additional item. Rohypnol."  
  
"The date rape drug?"  
  
Simon leaned back in his chair, clamping a cigar between his teeth. "The lab thinks that   
when used together with Golden, there's a very short and almost mild withdrawal   
period."  
  
"Which means the user would recover more quickly," Ariel elaborated, "and able to   
easily hide the fact he's abusing drug. This way, you've a long-time user who's able to   
earn money and still support his habit. Something about the Golden negates   
Rohypnol's withdrawal effect to almost zero."  
  
"The user-friendly drug," Simon stated sourly.   
  
"On the other hand, the user would've to lock himself alone in a room when taking the   
Golden." Jim continued. "Rohypnol intensifies the effect of alcohol and other drugs,   
but at the same time causes temporary amnesia and loss of motor skills. The user   
would basically become very dependent and vulnerable to all kinds of attacks. So when   
the user's feeling the effects of Golden more intensively, he's also open to all kinds of   
advances."  
  
"But it's a price they're willing to pay for that brief period of 'ecstasy'," Ariel   
commented sarcastically.   
  
"And the Boss is peddling this on the streets?" Blair was appalled and more than a little   
frightened.   
  
"He's selling it cheap and promoting the drug like a damned businessman," Simon   
growled.  
  
"Jim, if this shit hits the university — "  
  
"I know, Chief. We'll stop it somehow." Jim squeezed his partner's shoulder   
reassuringly.   
  
Blair centred himself with an effort. They're going to stop the Boss; Jim will stop the   
Boss. He knew his Sentinel would not let this drug hit the streets if he has anything to   
say about it. He took up another folder.  
  
"What about the massacre and McKennitt's disappearance?"   
  
"We finally got a positive ID on the shooter. His name is Thomas Dwight," Jim   
replied. "Works as at the Cascade National Bank. His wife reported him missing three   
days ago."  
  
"Three days ago?" Ariel interrupted. "That means he's been planning this for quite   
some time already."  
  
Blair understood instantly what was going through her mind. "So there's no way it   
could be a retaliation for yesterday's bust."  
  
"He must've been planning to free Fillmore all this while," Ariel chewed her lips   
thoughtfully.  
  
"But how did he know McKennitt was replacing Brown?"   
  
"Maybe he didn't, Chief." said Jim. "Maybe he just saw the opportunity and grab it.   
For all we know, he could've killed her already for the bust yesterday."  
  
Ariel shook her head. "That's not his style. The Boss's idea of punishment tends to be   
rather elaborate."  
  
"Hold it." They all started in surprise and stared at the scowling Simon seated behind   
his desk. He had been so quiet that they nearly forgot he was there. "Who is this 'he'   
we're talking about?"  
  
"The Boss, who else?" Blair answered, surprised.  
  
"Why are you so convinced that it was him who kidnapped McKennitt? After all,   
whoever freed Fillmore could be working for someone else."  
  
"No, I don't think so," Jim replied. "This feels like his style."  
  
"Jim, you've only one run-in with the Boss. What made you so certain it was him?"   
Jim only looked at the captain, the rather bleak look in his eyes startling the big burly   
captain. "All right. I'll take your word for it."  
  
"Thank you, sir. So what we have now is a massacre which turned out to be a   
distraction, McKennitt kidnapped and Fillmore free, and an enemy who manufactures   
Golden."  
  
"Golden is rare, right?" Ariel spoke up. "He'll needs a pretty high-tech kind of place to   
manufacture it."   
  
"I had a meeting with one of my informers this morning," Jim added. "He told me that   
there were rumours of the Boss having his drug lab based in the wild."   
  
"But that would make it nearly impossible to find," Simon pointed out. "Not to say a   
very inconvenient place for a manufacturing lab."  
  
"Inconvenient, yes. But still feasible," Jim countered. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.   
"When I was stranded in Peru, I helped the Chopec to destroy a drug lab near their   
borders. The drug lords were making cocaine, not Golden. But believe me, with the   
kind of set-up they possessed, they wouldn't have any problem manufacturing   
Golden."   
  
"So our best bet would be to find the most suitable locations in the forests. Near the   
city but not so near that anyone could find it." Simon got up from his chair, went to the   
door and called for Taggart.  
  
"Yes, sir?" The portly captain entered the office.   
  
"Taggart, I've a task for you." Quickly, he outlined what he wanted the ex-Bomb   
Squad captain to do. "Get Brown and Rafe. I know one's sick and the other's probably   
still shaken, but I need all the manpower I can get."  
  
"No problem, Simon. They'll understand."  
  
"Thanks, Joel." Blair said.  
  
"Hey, we look after our own," Joel replied. He directed a reassuring smile at Ariel.   
"Don't worry, Doctor. We'll get her back."   
  
Ariel was utterly grateful. And her expression showed it, even though she said nothing.   
  
Simon's phone rang. Snatching it up, the captain listened to it. After a while, he hung   
up. "Narcotics just received an anonymous tip about another Golden exchange going   
down at the docks in four hours. Lieutenant Baron's requesting Major Crimes'   
presence, since the case belonged to us."  
  
"So what are we waiting for?" Blair questioned eagerly.   
  
"What about Jamie?" Ariel burst out. "We're not going to just leave her like that, are   
we?"  
  
Simon's glare softened when he beheld the fretting woman. "No, we're not, Doctor. If   
this bust goes successfully, hopefully we'll be able to dig up more information about   
the whereabouts of the drug lab, therefore her location as well."  
  
***  
  
Jim threw his third curious glance in Blair's direction. For the last four hours, the   
younger man had been more or less preoccupied. It didn't take a genius to see that he   
was turning a puzzle over in his mind. Jim didn't get a chance to ask him, as he was   
busy co-ordinating the bust. But now, as they travelled to the docks in the Expedition,   
he decided it was high time.   
  
"What's eating you, Chief?"  
  
"Huh?" Blair looked away from the window distractedly.   
  
"You look as though something's bothering you," Jim explained. "Care to tell me   
about it?"  
  
"Well, it's a highly debatable question." Blair fell silent, clearly trying to come to a   
decision. Finally, he twisted around in his seat to face Ariel sitting quietly in the back   
seat. "Ariel, correct me if I'm wrong, but a Sentinel and Guide are bonded, right?"  
  
"Whoa. What are you getting at, Chief?"   
  
"I'll explain later, Jim." Blair chastised patiently. "Now I need to hear her opinion."  
  
"You're right," Ariel said simply.  
  
"So if one's in trouble, the other will know at once, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sandburg, what are you trying to say?" Jim was getting uneasy. His Guide was   
touching on a subject that he himself had pondered and came up with an answer he   
didn't want anyone to know, not even Blair.  
  
Blair, oblivious to Jim's discomfort, pressed on eagerly. "I know this is going to sound   
crazy, but what if, what if both could use this bond to locate the other? Is that   
possible?"  
  
"I know what you're getting at, and you're right. I could've easily track Jamie down   
by our bond, instead of doing it the hard way. But I can't reach her." Ariel gestured,   
trying to describe the sensation she was feeling. "She's all cut off from me. Vague and   
formless. It's as though someone had pulled a veil over her presence in my mind. I can   
barely sense her, much less talk to her."  
  
"And the Boss did this?"  
  
Ariel stared at him open-mouthed.   
  
"He's a shaman, right? Like you?"  
  
"H-how?" she stammered.  
  
"Jim recognises a shaman when he sees one. He did spend all that time with the   
Shaman of the Chopec tribe in Peru."   
  
Ariel looked at Blair, then at Jim, and back at the observer. "Jamie was right," she said   
finally. "The both of you see too much."  
  
"Why are you so concerned about what we know?" Jim asked. "I know J.E. was lying   
to me when she told me all these shit happening are recorded events."  
  
"We have to," replied Ariel. "Our survival's at stake every moment we spent in the   
past. Please don't ask me anymore, okay?"  
  
Jim noticed her elevated responses, indicating stress, and decided to let go. For the   
moment, anyway. He wasn't done with the questioning, not by a long shot.   
  
***  
  
For the hundredth time, McKennitt tried to shift her position to relieve her cramped   
back. Muttering a curse when her head bumped the side of the black box. It was   
getting very uncomfortable in the black box. Outside they had shut off the light again,   
leaving her in total darkness.   
  
McKennitt drew in another deep breath, fighting to keep the panic from welling up. It   
was so dark in here, so dark and so suffocating. She was starting to see things;   
frightening things in her own mind. Biting her lips, she dug her nails into her palms; the   
brief spasm of pain clearing her mind somewhat. But she knew it wouldn't work   
forever, as the agony of being cramped up in the black box grew greater.  
  
//Ariel,// she called out, seeking for her Guide's reassuring mental presence.   
  
***  
  
Ariel stiffened when she heard the faint call in her mind. //Jamie?//  
  
In the rear view mirror, she could see Jim's gaze falling on her sharply. But she was   
too busy trying to make contact with her missing Sentinel to care about that.   
  
//Jamie? Where are you? Can you hear me?// she asked anxiously. //Jamie!//  
  
***  
  
McKennitt slumped, giving up. All the mental seeking was only giving her a headache.   
  
Ariel was still there, but she was a veiled and muffled presence. Someone was blocking   
their bond as much as he could, and he was succeeding.   
  
She closed her eyes and prayed. *Come get me, pagan. This time, I need the rescuing.*  
  
***  
  
"You look a little distracted," Jim told Ariel.  
  
"I felt Jamie calling out for me," she explained fretfully. "But I still can't reach her."   
She suddenly banged her fists against the back of Jim's seat, startling the detective. "I   
hate this!"  
  
"Don't take it out on the truck," Blair said, trying for levity. "It hadn't done anything   
to you to deserve this."  
  
"Neither had Jamie done anything to deserve being put through hell," Ariel retorted   
sharply.   
  
"Sorry," Blair apologised. Then he became stern, deciding if being a friend wouldn't   
work, perhaps being a grandfather would. "But you're not helping matters by freaking   
out. You know that, young lady."  
  
"My head knows that," Ariel replied gloomily. "But tell it to my heart!"   
  
***  
  
Fillmore's leg was bandaged and he had changed into a new suit before he felt like   
himself again. But it was hours before he worked up the courage to go see the Boss.   
His blunders weighed heavily on his mind. He knew that he was partially to be blamed   
for the prisoners' escape and the Boss's failure to eliminate that detective Ellison. He   
was determined to make up for those mistakes and regain the Boss's favours.   
  
"Enter, Fillmore."   
  
Somewhat warily, Fillmore entered the Boss's office. Unlike the study in his mansion,   
the Boss's office in the drug lab was sparse and unadorned. The Boss himself was   
seated in his chair, twirling a pen about his fingers, studying his laptop.   
  
"What is it, Fillmore?"  
  
Fillmore cleared his throat nervously. "I just want to say thank you, Boss. For getting   
me out. I never doubted you."  
  
The Boss's gaze never moved from the screen of his laptop. "You're loyal to me.   
Loyalty's a valuable commodity these days. How's your leg?"  
  
"It's just a graze. Nothing to worry about."  
  
"I'm glad. Because I've a task for you."  
  
Fillmore brightened. Maybe this was the chance the Boss was giving him to make up   
for his blunders.   
  
"Go back to Cascade. I need you to keep an eye on a certain group of people. You   
can't miss them." The Boss scribbled something on a slip of paper and gave it to him.   
"Here's the address. Report in personally to me every six hours. Is that clear,   
Fillmore?"  
  
"Yes, Boss."  
  
"Now leave me."  
  
Fillmore wisely left the Boss's office without further question. Privately, he was kinda   
crestfallen. It was clear that the Boss still blame him for his blunders. This lowly   
assignment was proof of that. Fillmore grimaced at the slip of paper he held, then   
tucked it away.  
  
There has got to be some way to regain the Boss's favour.   
  
***  
  
Jim's Expedition was parked behind a container box a discreet distance away from the   
targeted warehouse. From here, the detective would have a clear view of anyone   
entering the warehouse. From the back seat, Ariel handed out the kevlar vests they   
brought with them.   
  
Blair squirmed in his seat, struggling to fit into his. "I really hate this," he groused   
under his breath.   
  
"It may just save your life, Chief." Jim said absently, easily strapped on his while   
observing the dock from his vantage point.   
  
"What did you see?" the observer asked softly.   
  
"Nothing yet." Jim put on his combination headset. "Simon, you read?"  
  
"Loud and clear, Jim. Anything?"  
  
"Negative."  
  
They waited in silence. SWAT personnel and Narcotic cops were hidden throughout   
the dock. All of them waiting for the exchange to take place. There was no sign of the   
drug dealers anywhere.   
  
Four o'clock came and went.   
  
Blair was beginning to get fidgety in his seat. All these waiting was getting to him.   
Behind him, Ariel drummed her fingers on the back of Jim's seat in an unconscious   
nervous rhythm until the detective could not take it anymore. He twisted around in his   
seat, pinning the department psychologist with an annoyed look.  
  
"Do you mind?"  
  
Ariel was bewildered. "What?"  
  
Jim indicated her fingers with his gaze. "That drumming. It's getting on my nerves."  
  
Abashed, Ariel folded her hands in her lap. "Sorry."   
  
Jim turned back around, just in time to see a black sedan with tinted windows cruised   
into the dock. It was soon followed by a white van, similar to the white van he had   
chased yesterday. He tensed, straightening in his seat.   
  
"Is it them?" Blair asked, noticing his alert poise.   
  
"We'll know in a minute," Jim muttered. He watched intently as the two vehicles rolled   
into the warehouse, the huge doors sliding shut behind them. The detective reached for   
his Jags cap, tugging it over his head. "I'm going in for a closer look."   
  
"Be careful, okay?" Blair warned. "No telling what kind of guards they have."   
  
"I'll be fine." Jim slid out of his Expedition, pausing to shake a warning finger at the   
passengers within. "Stay put, the both of you. I don't want to see even your shadows   
near there. Clear?"  
  
"As crystal," replied Blair glumly.   
  
They watched in silence as Jim stealthily made his way over to the warehouse. For a   
long moment, he hunched beneath an open window. Then he vanished around the side.   
  
Now it was Blair's turn to drum his fingers on the dashboard, nervously gnawing his   
lower lip. There was a bad feeling in his gut about this drug deal, a really bad feeling.   
He glanced sidelong at Ariel. A similar anxious expression was mirrored on her face.   
Then she noticed his glance.  
  
"Worried?" she asked with a faint smile.  
  
"Anxious," Blair turned to look out of the window. "I really hate this."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"I'm his Guide. He needs me to cover his back. That's what we do."  
  
"I know."  
  
They exchanged another look. Then in unison, they reached a decision and quietly   
stepped out of the Expedition. Quickly, they scurried for the closest cover and peered   
over the edge at the warehouse.  
  
"Jim's going to kill me," Blair muttered.  
  
"If it's any comfort, Jamie'll kill me too when she finds out."  
  
"I guess that's what Sentinels are for," he joked.  
  
"I don't know. Could be an Ellison quirk."  
  
Inside the warehouse, Jim couldn't help but sigh in exasperation when he overheard   
the conversation. He knew his Guide all too well; Blair almost never listen to him.   
  
Bringing his mind back on the task at hand, the detective peered over a pile of sacks   
containing coffee beans. A group of well-dressed men had alighted from both vehicles   
and were standing around in a circle. There were clearly two leaders, both Jim   
identified by their confident stance. From where he was, he had a good view of the   
drug exchange about to take place. Jim crouched quietly, watching patiently for the   
moment to signal the cops to bust the exchange.  
  
A henchman nodded to his leader. As though taking that as a signal, the leader reached   
into his breast pocket and took out...a dog whistle?  
  
The realisation hit Jim a split second too late. Clamping his hands over his ears, Jim   
recoiled as the very high-pitched sound pierced his head like a skewer. The dog whistle   
played hell with his hearing and equilibrium. All sense of balance fled him; Jim tumbled   
from his hiding place, hitting the ground curled in a foetal position, hands   
unsuccessfully trying to block out the torturous sound.  
  
The leader, still blowing the dog whistle, motioned to his henchmen. Several of them   
ran forward quickly. One of them hit Jim over the head, sending him into   
unconsciousness. The leader stopped blowing his dog whistle, watching silently as they   
gathered and carried the unconscious detective over to the white van.   
  
Still eerily silent, the men quickly went to their vehicles. One of them paused to   
activate a bomb, placing it carefully in the centre of the warehouse, before climbing   
into the sedan. Immediately, the sedan spun round and sped after the fleeing van,   
heading straight for the opening warehouse doors.   
  
"Look out!" Blair yelled, tackling Ariel to safety as the two vehicles sped past them by   
bare inches. At once, he leapt back onto his feet and sprinted after the disappearing   
vehicles.   
  
"JIM!" He didn't know how he knew, but his partner was in one of the two escaping   
vehicles and in deep trouble. "JJIIMM!"   
  
The explosion flung him a far distance away, throwing him hard against a parked   
loader. It practically deafened him and lit up the overcast sky, spewing debris   
everywhere. He laid where he fell, totally disoriented, as he stared up at the sky.   
  
"Gramps! Gramps!" Ariel practically flung herself at him, eyes wide with horror. "Oh   
my God, are you all right?"  
  
Blair sat up slowly with her gentle help. "I'm fine," he winced, feeling as though his   
head had swelled. "Ooh, my head."  
  
"You hit it when you slammed against that loader." Ariel carefully felt the bump on the   
back of his head.   
  
Blair sat quietly, feeling a tingle as Ariel let her healing influence flow. In a moment, he   
felt as good as new.   
  
"Blair!" Simon came running up to them, a worried look on his face. "You all right,   
kid?"  
  
"I'm fine, Simon." Blair brushed off the captain's concern, his mind returning to his   
one worry. "But Jim."  
  
Simon was sorrowful. "I'm sorry, kid. There's no way he could've survive that blast."  
  
"He wasn't in there."   
  
"What?"  
  
"The drug dealers." Blair tugged urgently at the captain's sleeve, trying to pull him to   
the Expedition. "They took him. I don't know how, but he was with them. Come on,   
Simon. We got to get him back."  
  
Simon dug his heels in. "Sandburg, they're long gone by now."  
  
"Simon —"  
  
"I've an APB out for them. We'll find him."  
  
"Simon —"  
  
"Don't go chasing after them half-cocked, Sandburg. It's not going to do him any   
good."   
  
"Remember who you're dealing with, Blair." Ariel said softly.   
  
He blanched.   
  
Simon stared intently at Ariel, then at Blair. Finally he stuck his cigar between his lips   
and put his fists on his hips.   
  
"All right, I've had enough. One of you better tell me WHAT IN THE NAME OF   
GOD IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!"  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
Go to Part Two 


	4. Unravelling - Part 2

~ Time Circle - Unravelling (Part Two) ~  
____________________________________________________________________  
  
Jim woke with a migraine that threatened to hammer a hole through his skull and   
bright light shining right in his eyes. Groaning softly, he tried to raise his hands to   
shade his eyes, but his movements were hampered. Averting his head from the light, he   
cautiously opened his eyes, dialling down his sensitivity.   
  
Chains. He was manacled and chained. To the wall.   
  
He didn't have to look to know his feet were equally bound. He could feel the cold   
steel encircling his ankles through his pants and socks.   
  
"Grandpa?"   
  
"J.E.?" Jim bolted upright, to be felled by a sudden spike of pain in his head.   
  
"You all right?" came the somewhat muffled voice.   
  
"Yeah, just a friggin' migraine." Jim sat up again, this time more slowly. He finally got   
a good look at his surrounding.   
  
He was in a windowless, concrete room with a steel door at the far end. A single naked   
light bulb was the only light source in the room. Between the door and him was a steel   
box barely big enough to contain a fully grown man, with small air holes near the top.   
A chill ran down his spine when he finally recognised it.  
  
Jim swiftly scrambled over to the black box, almost losing his balance when his chains   
went taut. He cursed, staring at the black box only a half body's distance away from   
him. "J.E., you in there?"  
  
"Where else could I be? How did they catch you?"   
  
"A dog whistle," replied Jim. "Played hell with my hearing and balance. I walked right   
into a trap."  
  
"Any idea what does he want with us?"  
  
"No." Jim tried to make himself comfortable, as much as his chains would allow. "I   
don't even know where we are."  
  
"I have a guess. Sometimes a draft brings the smell of Golden to me."  
  
"So we're in his manufacturing plant. That's great. If only we can get the message to   
Simon." Jim studied the black box intently, trying to figure out a way to free   
McKennitt. "How are you really?"  
  
"Really? I want out, grandpa. All this enclosed space's driving me crazy!" She banged   
furiously on the sides of the box from within. "I want out! You hear me?! I WANT   
OUT!"   
  
"Easy now!" Jim shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise. He kept his   
voice calm, recognising that McKennitt was pretty close to cracking. "Calm down,   
sweetheart. You'll be out of there soon enough. Just bear with it a little while longer,   
all right, J.E?"  
  
The banging slowed, then gradually stopped. Jim watched intently, trying to peer   
unsuccessfully into the black box. His Sentinel hearing picked up her harsh breathing,   
rapid and shallow. It was a long while before he heard her heartbeat slowing as well.   
  
"Just hang in there, Jamie sweetie."   
  
Silence.  
  
"You called me Jamie," came the almost voiceless whisper.  
  
Jim wasn't sure he heard her right. "What?"  
  
"You called me Jamie. You never called me that before, always 'McKennitt' or 'J.E.'."  
  
"What are you getting at?"  
  
"You always call me by my assumed name, not my real one. I was never sure if you   
were just tolerating my presence, or if you did feel something for me, grandpa."  
  
"It took time to get used to the idea of my granddaughter being as old as I am," he   
confessed uncomfortably.  
  
McKennitt laughed, the box making her voice sounded muffled from outside. "Then   
you won't believe that I'm actually younger than Ariel."  
  
Jim smiled. "No, I don't believe you."  
  
Her laughter trailed off to a sigh. "Damn, how long was I in this box?"  
  
"Well, they abducted me on the same day they took you. I say a few hours, if I hadn't   
lose any days when I was out cold."  
  
"Hours," she sighed again. "Feels like days to me."  
  
Jim contemplated the black box thoughtfully, thinking that now was a good time to get   
some of his questions answered. "Tell me, Jamie, is Dylan the Boss?"  
  
"What?" she asked sharply.   
  
"Dylan. Back at the water treatment plant, you called him Dylan."  
  
"So?"  
  
"You told me no one knew his real name. Apparently, you lied. I really like to know   
the truth, young lady."  
  
"I can't tell you everything."  
  
"I wouldn't be ask you this, if we aren't constantly running into the Boss and new   
questions keep cropping up. So who's Dylan?"  
  
***  
  
Simon didn't know whether to admit Ariel or himself to the loony bin. Instead he   
reached for the bottle of aspirins he kept handy in his desk drawer. He could feel a   
headache creeping up on him. Popping two of the white tablets, he regarded Ariel and   
Blair with a look neither of them could discern.  
  
"Let me get this straight," he started calmly. "I have two Sentinels working under me.   
And you, Doctor Sutherland, is Guide to one of them."  
  
"That's right, sir." Ariel was inexplicably nervous facing the stoic captain. She had told   
him everything except for the time travel and ancestry parts. Somehow she didn't think   
Simon would accept that.  
  
"And the Boss has kidnapped both detectives for some sick game of vengeance   
because they foiled his drug exchange yesterday."  
  
"That's what I think, sir." Ariel didn't know where Simon was heading with this line of   
questioning.   
  
Simon tapped the end of his cigar against his desk, thinking hard. "Jim, I can   
understand. From what he told me of their last encounter, the Boss had this grudge   
against him."  
  
"It's not exactly a grudge," Blair pointed out. "The Boss's more or less obsessed with   
the thought that Jim was the obstacle in his way."  
  
"That translated into a grudge to me, Sandburg." Simon said irritably. "But why   
McKennitt? What does he have against her?"  
  
"I don't know," Ariel said.   
  
"You sure you don't know?" Simon persisted. "You're her Guide, aren't you? From   
what I can tell from Jim and Blair, Sentinel and Guide are close. And that means they   
tell each other things."  
  
"Uh, Simon, Jim doesn't voluntarily tell me things." Blair corrected hesitatingly.   
"Sometimes I've to pull it out of him. It's like visiting the dentist."  
  
"Sandburg, am I asking for your opinion?"  
  
"Jamie and I were separated for the last twelve years or so," Ariel cut in. "She   
could've tangled with the Boss during this period of time and I wouldn't know about   
it."  
  
Simon sighed, slumping back in his chair. "All right, all right. I get the point."  
  
"So what are we going to do?"   
  
"What can we do but try to find them?" Simon countered. "Chances are the Boss's   
holding them somewhere close to his heart of operations. Which means we got to find   
where the hell he's manufacturing the new Golden."  
  
"We'll get right to it, sir." Blair hopped down from his perch on the conference table.   
He waited until they were safely outside Simon's office before taking Ariel's elbow and   
guided her to the break room.   
  
Ariel threw a confused glance in his direction. "Blair?"  
  
"We need to talk. Pronto."  
  
Ariel eyed Blair warily as he carefully shut the door of the break room, enclosing them   
within it. "What do you want to talk about?"   
  
"You want some coffee?" Blair poured two cups and slid one across the table.   
  
They sat at the table, Ariel watching Blair above the rim of her cup. Blair was aware of   
her gaze, but he refused to talk until he was ready.   
  
"You lied to Simon," he finally said quietly.   
  
"I need to make it sound less crazy," she retorted. "You honestly think he would   
believe me if I told him about the time travel part? And what's with you and Jim   
anyway? Why can't the both of you let us keep our secrets and accept us as we are?"  
  
"Because every time we run into the Boss, we run into questions that only the both of   
you could answer!" Blair took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising ire. "Look, Jim   
and I, we knew you can't diverge any secrets regarding the future. But the Boss, he   
uses what he knows about the past and future to manipulate events in the present. You   
follow?"  
  
"Of course I follow," Ariel said impatiently.  
  
"He's a danger we have to take down. To do that, therefore we need to know what   
you know in order to guess his next move. Both Jim and I, we don't like to work in the   
dark."   
  
"Gramps, I can't —" Ariel looked at him helplessly, pleading with him to leave it   
alone.   
  
Blair was persistent. He knew what he was doing was going to hurt Ariel, but he   
would do anything to find Jim and get him back. "Why don't I start with what I know,   
okay? One, the Boss is related to me."  
  
Ariel went pale, gaping at him speechlessly.   
  
"It wasn't that hard to figure out," Blair told her. "I didn't want to tell you that I   
know, but hell, that's moot now."  
  
"How did you know?" she asked faintly.  
  
"When I threaten to take my own life at the water treatment plant. He knew it was an   
empty threat, but still he didn't dare to call me bluff. I can't figure it out why unless my   
death would mean that he wouldn't exist as all. Am I right, Ariel?"  
  
"Does Jim know?"  
  
"I hope not," Blair smiled humorously. "It would give him a heart attack."   
  
"We can't have that now, can we?" Ariel joked weakly, recovering from her shock.  
  
Blair turned sombre. "Tell me, Ariel, how is Dylan related to me?"  
  
Ariel sighed, resting her head against the tabletop. "He's my brother. His name is   
Dylan Sandburg."  
  
"What?" Blair was confused. "But your last name's Glassner."   
  
"I'm married, all right." Without even lifting her head, she raised her right hand,   
wiggling her naked fingers. "I left my wedding ring back home before I time-travelled."  
  
"You mean I got great-grandchildren?" Blair was astounded.  
  
Ariel finally raised her head, Blair's excited tone reaching her. "Three of them," she   
smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. "Naomi's the eldest, then Miriam and the youngest,   
James Blair Glassner. He has the strongest Guide talent."   
  
"Do you have pictures of them?"   
  
"No," Ariel's smile died. "I wasn't allowed to bring anything but the clothes on my   
back. It was the rule."   
  
She turned her gaze back to Blair, a desperate determined light in her blue eyes.   
"Jamie's all I have now. I'll tell you everything, anything if it would help me get her   
back."   
  
***  
  
Jim sat, stunned by what McKennitt had told him. He shook his head, trying to absorb   
the news. Several pieces of the puzzle was falling into places.   
  
"So that's why Blair said he was treated almost like a VIP during his abduction," he   
mused aloud.  
  
"Yeah. If Blair's dead, he wouldn't exist." McKennitt said. Her tone turned bitter. "He   
has no qualms about killing Ariel, though."  
  
"Why? What happened that made him hate the both of you so much?"  
  
McKennitt sighed. Jim heard the rustle of clothes from inside the black box as she tried   
to shift her position, then a soft curse.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"My foot's asleep," McKennitt said. "I'm cramping big time in my back. Other than   
that, I'm okay. So what happened that made Dylan hate the both of us? I repudiated   
him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I repudiated him."   
  
"I heard that, but why? How...?" Jim didn't know how to put it.  
  
"How could I have repudiated a Guide? I could, since I realised he wasn't meant to be   
MY Guide, and that he had murdered three innocent children."  
  
Jim took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself. "I think you better start from the   
beginning."  
  
"We grew up together, Dylan, Ariel and I. Dylan was the oldest, the one in charge. He   
enjoys being the leader. I was the youngest. When I grew older, I often challenge his   
leadership in our games. The both of us were very competitive. We often argued and   
came to blows when we couldn't agree on something. Ariel was the peacemaker. She   
didn't take part in our more vigorous games. She was a frail child, often ill. Professor   
Sandburg worried a lot about her. But she was always there to defuse the situation."  
  
"In hindsight, I supposed that should've been my sign that I couldn't get along with   
Dylan. We quarrelled more than we got along. Now that I think about it, Dylan was   
simply filling in as a temporary Guide while I waited for Ariel to grow stronger. But at   
that time, I thought Dylan was supposed to be my Guide."  
  
She fell silent. Jim waited patiently. It was clear that all these were rousing some old   
memories in her, probably painful memories.   
  
"What happened?" he prompted gently when it was clear she wasn't going to volunteer   
more information.  
  
"World War Three came," she answered simply. "I was in the front lines, Dylan was   
working as a medic. Ariel stayed home with the Professor. She was still sickly. I didn't   
seen any of them for nearly four years. When the war was over and I finally returned   
home, the Professor was training Ariel to be a Guide to my cousin and a Shaman as   
well. She had finally outgrew her childhood fragility."   
  
"Dylan returned home several weeks after I did. He was eager to pick up where he left   
off in his shamanic training. But the war had changed Dylan. You see, he had been a   
POW in one of the Antichrist's camps, and he had seen the kind of power the   
Antichrist wielded. And he fell in love with that power. He wanted to be powerful, in   
control of so many people and events. But that wasn't the Shaman way. And it   
certainly wasn't what the Professor was teaching. So he renounced the Professor and   
went out to find some other mentors."  
  
"Didn't Blair do anything to stop him?"  
  
"No. I wish he had, but he didn't. I asked why, and all he would say that Dylan had a   
destiny to fulfil. That infuriated me. I was losing my Guide and I didn't even know   
why. I set out with Ariel to find Dylan. She was also worried about her brother."  
  
"We searched for months. We went into lands ruined by the war, into enemy   
territories, everywhere. I practically used up all the contacts I knew tracking Dylan   
down. And when we finally found him, I wished I hadn't instead."  
  
Jim sensed this was the climax of the story. He kept silent, not wanting to break the   
mood.   
  
"We finally found him in Chichen Itza, northern Yucatan in Mexico. There was some   
ruins there called the Temple of Warriors. Ask Blair about that place. He should know   
about it."  
  
"What was the temple used for?"  
  
"It was a place for human sacrifice."  
  
***  
  
"When we found Dylan, he was in the middle of some ancient native ceremony."   
Ariel's voice was hushed, and she was nearly ashen, eyes haunted. "There was a stone   
altar and an idol -"  
  
"Called the Chacmool," Blair interrupted. "Yes, I know about that place. What was he   
doing?"  
  
"He was dressed in some kind of ceremonial robes. He was masked. He held a stone   
dagger and he was chanting to the moon. He had a young girl, not older than ten, tied   
on the stone altar. She was naked and crying and screaming, terrified clean out of her   
mind."   
  
Ariel closed her eyes, trembling in remembered fear. Alarmed, Blair reached out and   
enfolded her in his arms, trying to console her.   
  
"It wasn't the first time he performed a human sacrifice. I saw three other dead bodies   
of young girls scattered about in the Temple. All of them had their hearts cut out, most   
likely while they were still alive."  
  
"There was power in the air," she whispered haltingly. "Blood power, dark and vile. It   
scared the living daylight out of me. Jamie wasn't much better herself. She had lapsed   
into full Sentinel mode, feral and protective. She leapt from our hiding place and   
tackled Dylan away from the girl. I freed the girl from the altar while she scuffled with   
Dylan. Both of them were soldiers, but Jamie was a Sentinel, an angry one at that. She   
overpowered Dylan and broke the stone dagger when I told her too."  
  
Ariel opened her eyes, ready to face her memories head on. "You see, Dylan was using   
blood sacrifice to give himself the kind of power a Shaman had to train for a lifetime to   
get. The stone dagger was a kind of conduit to infuse the power within himself. He   
was enraged to have his dagger broken, but at the same time he was delighted to see   
Jamie."   
  
"He asked her to join him. With his Sentinel at his side and his power as a dark   
Shaman, he thought he would be able to rule the world. His voice was his main   
strength. He was so persuasive, so logical. I almost believe him. Jamie didn't fare much   
better. She still thought of him as her Guide. All those years of conditioning herself to   
his voice, his presence. She didn't have any defence against him."  
  
"When I realised what was happened, I fought for her. I was already beginning to think   
of Jamie as my Sentinel and I wouldn't let her fall into Dylan's clutches, brother or not.   
I was a shaman in training; Dylan was so much more powerful than I was. Still I   
refused to give her up."   
  
"Jamie was wavering, unable to decide. Both of us had holds on her. She couldn't   
choose between the both of us. Then Dylan made a mistake. He invited her to partake   
in the blood sacrifices; he offered to sacrifice me."   
  
Ariel turned to Blair, a hurt betrayal in her eyes. "I was his sister, but he was willing to   
sacrifice me for power."  
  
"What did Jamie do?" he asked quietly.   
  
"It was the one thing that made up her mind. She repudiated him, cut off all ties with   
him. He was no longer her Guide. And she was no longer his Sentinel. I think that   
shocked Dylan. It was so unexpected and so unbelievable. She denounced her own   
Guide."   
  
"Dylan was livid and he accused me of stealing his Sentinel. As far as he was   
concerned, I was the cause of Jamie's disobedience. And he tried to kill me, but Jamie   
flung herself across me, willing to become my human shield. I think, in his eyes, Dylan   
thought himself betrayed by his own Sentinel. He couldn't take it; he fled the scene,   
screaming his hatred for us and swearing to take vengeance one day."  
  
"And that was the last we saw of him. Years passed. I became a Shaman and we joined   
the Cascade PD. Then the Boss surfaced and we were given the case. At first we didn't   
know who we were dealing with, but when we discovered the truth, we realised the   
stakes was much higher than we thought."   
  
She sighed, drained by her long story and the stirring of painful memories. "And there   
you have it. The entire story."   
  
Blair was quiet, pondering thoughtfully.   
  
"I think Dylan wasn't meant to be her Guide," he commented slowly.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I think he was just a temporary Guide. I think she was waiting for you until you had   
grown strong enough to carry the burden."  
  
Ariel stared at him, shaken.   
  
"That was precisely what you told me when we returned to Cascade from Mexico,"   
she said in a hushed whisper. "Word for word. Gramps, you're good."  
  
"As a shaman?"  
  
She nodded eagerly.   
  
"But I'm not a Shaman. At least not yet."  
  
"But the gift is there." She studied his bewildered countenance, chewing her lower lip,   
clearly contemplating something. Finally she stood and pulled Blair to his feet. "Come   
on."  
  
"Wha —? Where are we going?" Blair stumbled, trying to keep up as she dragged him   
out of the break room.  
  
"To get some supplies. I think I know how to find them!"   
  
***  
  
"That's one hell of a story," Jim finally commented, rubbing the bridge of his nose   
tiredly. He laid back on the cold floor, wanting to stay as close as he could to his   
granddaughter.   
  
"Crazy is more like it," replied McKennitt. "Right up there with time travel. Took me   
months to get over it. Hell, I still get nightmares sometimes."  
  
"What did Blair say about all these?"  
  
"The Professor was heartbroken. He'd never expected his grandson to turn away from   
the light."  
  
"And me? What did I think of the whole thing?"  
  
McKennitt fell silent.  
  
"J.E., what did I say?"  
  
"You said nothing," she finally replied.   
  
"I said nothing?" Jim couldn't believe his ears. "That doesn't sound like me."  
  
"Trust me, you said nothing." McKennitt sighed and half-muttered to herself, "I don't   
believe I'm going to do this." Louder, "Grandpa, can you promise me one thing?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't ever mess around with the Lazar family, okay?"  
  
Jim eyed the black box perplexed. As far as he knew, the Lazars were under FBI   
investigation. Not his jurisdiction at all. "Why?"  
  
"Just promise me you won't mess around with them. Not as an undercover informer,   
bodyguard, as a tutor, or even fall in love with one of them. Promise me that, no   
questions asked. Please?"  
  
"All right," Jim agreed, sensing her desperation. "I won't ever mess around with the   
Lazars. No questions asked."  
  
"Thank you. You've no idea how much you set my mind at ease."   
  
"You're welcomed." Jim raised his head a couple of inches off the ground, listening   
intently. Then he sat up again. "We got company."  
  
Both Sentinels waited expectantly, tracking the approaching footsteps with their   
hearing. Soon they heard the clanging of the lock and the creak of the steel door as it   
swung open.   
  
Jim stood, tense and ready to do something even though he was manacled.   
  
Four henchmen stepped through the open doorway. All of them were dressed in   
camouflage greens and carrying automatic rifles. The Boss was the last to enter. He   
too was dressed in camouflage greens but of a finer cut.   
  
For the first time, Jim finally laid his eyes on Dylan. He studied the man intently,   
mentally comparing him to Blair and Ariel. Dark of hair, his face bore little   
resemblance to Ariel and even less of Blair. The only features they have in common   
were the eyes — dark blue. But whereas Blair's eyes sparkled with warmth and a joy   
for life, his eyes were dead and cold and calculating.   
  
Jim felt his hackles raised, his Sentinel instincts kicking in. There was an aura about the   
Boss, dark and violent and vile. The Sentinel could barely control the urge to kill and   
eliminate the Boss before he could further endanger his tribe.  
  
"Good evening, Detective Ellison. I hope you've a good rest while you're here," the   
Boss greeted.  
  
"I've slept in worse places," Jim replied, struggling hard to remain rational.  
  
"What the hell do you want with us?" McKennitt snarled from inside the black box.   
  
"You'll know very soon." The Boss signalled to his henchmen.  
  
Two of the henchmen moved forward, pointing their automatic rifles at Jim. The   
detective raised his arms, back-pedalling until he reached the wall. He watched, his   
worry rising, as the other two henchmen bent and lifted the black box with McKennitt   
still inside.  
  
"Where are you taking her?"  
  
"Just some unfinished business to take care of," the Boss said casually.  
  
"You leave her alone!" Jim lunged forward, shoving past the two henchmen. But the   
two henchmen were quick, restraining him swiftly. "You hear me, Dylan? Touch her   
and I won't let you off."   
  
The Boss regarded Jim's angry face for a moment. "So she told you all about me."   
Then he turned away, motioning to his henchmen to carry the black box out.   
  
"Jim? Grandpa?" McKennitt called from inside the black box. She sounded tense and   
clearly on the edge. "Where are they taking me?"  
  
"I don't know, sweetheart. Keep calm, okay? I'll stay with you for as long as I can."  
  
Jim watched helplessly, furious at his inability to stop them from taking McKennitt to   
God-knows-where. He speared a hard angry glare at the Boss standing outside his   
prison.  
  
"You won't get away with this."  
  
"On the contrary, I am getting away with it." The Boss smiled, a chilly triumphant   
smile. "When I'm through with you, it'll be much too late for anyone on this planet."  
  
The steel door swung shut once more, sounding very much like the lid closing on his   
coffin.   
  
***  
  
They carried the black box down a long corridor, several doors away from Jim's   
prison. The Boss watched with a clinical detachment as his henchmen pried open the   
lid on the black box and roughly hauled out the detective  
  
McKennitt cried out in pain as bright light seared her sensitive eyes too used to   
darkness. She ducked her head, attempting to cover her eyes with her arms, cringing   
from the bright light flooding the room. She was all curled up, cramping too much to   
straighten. She gasped in pain again as she was unceremoniously dumped on the   
surgery table.   
  
McKennitt gritted her teeth in pain as her stiffened limbs were forced to straighten and   
be strapped to the surgery table. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, when they   
adjusted the floodlight to face her full in the face.   
  
Then a shadow fell over her, and she peered up through tearing eyes at the face of the   
Boss.   
  
"You know," he began conversationally, "I really like it when all my plans come to   
fruition. Springing Fillmore was nothing more than to distract the police from my   
activities out here."  
  
"You brainwashed an innocent man to massacre people," she spat. "You call that a   
distraction?"  
  
"It sure served my purpose," he grinned at her. "You were an added bonus. It's not   
everyday I get the job done and still have my vengeance at the same time."  
  
"You abducted two police officers. They won't stop searching for you."   
  
"So what? I can deal with the cops."   
  
The Boss reached out to caress her cheek. She averted her face from his touch. But his   
fingers lingered, causing her sensitive skin to crawl at his touch. Desperately, she   
dulled her sense of touch.   
  
"There are only two things in the whole world that I want," the Boss said softly.   
"Power and having my Sentinel by my side. It really wasn't too much to ask for."  
  
"You still could have your Sentinel back at your side."  
  
The Boss slapped her. "You repudiated me!" he snarled, hatred blazing from his eyes.   
"I was your Guide and you repudiated me!"  
  
"Ariel is MY Guide!" McKennitt yelled, enraged beyond reason. "You were just filling   
in until she has grown stronger!"  
  
"No! Ariel's weak, sickly. She had it easy. Grandfather protected her from the world.   
But I, I have to fight for what I want. She doesn't deserve to become a Shaman, I do!   
And you. I offered you all the power in the world and you turned away from me!"  
  
"You offered to sacrifice your own sister for power!" McKennitt strained against her   
bonds, forcing the Boss to meet her eyes. "That isn't our way. We protect the   
innocents, help them and offer them our wisdom. We do not crave power!"   
  
"That's your way. But it isn't mine." The Boss left her side suddenly.   
  
McKennitt squeezed her eyes shut again, the flood light blinding her. She heard the   
tinkle of some glass bottles and the tearing rustle of a plastic wrapping. A faint smell   
reached her nose. Then the Boss was back at her side, this time holding a syringe filled   
with a yellow liquid.   
  
"See this? It's the new strain of Golden I've cooked up. This is its purest form. Do you   
want to know how I brainwashed that poor berserker?"  
  
"The Rohypnol you mixed with the Golden. It has something to do with that, right?"  
  
"Very clever. Rohypnol doesn't just neutralise the Golden's — how should I put it? —   
hangover effect. It also give me easy manipulation of the mind. With it, I can   
brainwash the subject and have him do whatever I want him to do. The best part is he   
won't remember a single thing when he's sober, but still carry out the subconscious   
commands I planted."  
  
"You bastard," she spat at him.  
  
The Boss smiled coldly in anticipation. "I've always wanted to know how a Sentinel   
would react to the drug."  
  
***  
  
By the end of his first day at his task, Fillmore was convinced that he was being   
punished. Surely there has to be something far more interesting than keeping watch   
over a bunch of Indians lost in Cascade. He lowered his binoculars, studying the   
greenhouse on the roof across from his stakeout point with his naked eyes. The Indians   
had just bedded down for the night, save for the one young Indian standing watch.   
  
Fillmore glanced at his watch impatiently. It was almost eight and his replacement was   
nowhere to be seen. He shifted his position, trying to make himself more comfortable   
on the cold cement roof.   
  
That has got to be a reason why the Boss ordered him to stake out a bunch of Indians.   
In all the three years he had worked for him, Fillmore had never known the Boss to do   
anything without a reason. Yet in his opinion, the Indians didn't seem to be a threat at   
all. In fact, they were a rather a ridiculous sight to his eyes. Primitive people running   
around in a big modern city, doing God knows what. If the decision was left to him, he   
would've done something about them a long time ago.  
  
The thought gave Fillmore a pause. Maybe that was it. Maybe the Boss was testing   
him, testing his initiative. Maybe the Boss was giving him a chance to make it up to   
him, after that blunder he had made at the water treatment plant.   
  
Yeah, that was it, all right. The Boss was giving him a chance to make it up to him. He   
just got to figure out what it was he was supposed to do.   
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
INTERLUDE  
  
Back in the loft, Blair studied the neat row of five meditating candles on the coffee   
table. Each with a different fragrance, that when combined provided a kind of enhancer   
for mediation. He lifted his gaze to Ariel seated in a lotus position across from him.  
  
"We're supposed to meditate?" he guessed.  
  
"In a way." Ariel carefully lit each candle. "The closest description would be we're   
searching with our minds."  
  
"To find Jim and J.E."  
  
"Yes. You are bonded to Jim, like I am to Jamie. Dylan's blocking our bond, that's   
why I can't find her. But he didn't obscure your bond with Jim. I'm guessing that he   
didn't think the both of you were that deep into this Sentinel and Guide bond thing, so   
he's not bothering to conceal Jim's presence from you."  
  
Blair caught on at once. "So I'm going to meditate and search for Jim with my mind.   
Hopefully I can pinpoint his physical location, and thus find them. And what are you   
supposed to do?"  
  
"Break a couple of rules."  
  
"What rules?"  
  
"I'm not supposed to be the one who unlocked your Shaman gifts, gramps. It was   
someone else. But since he isn't here, and events are already all screwed up, I'm   
throwing the rule book out of the window."  
  
"Is that wise?"  
  
"I don't know," she answered bleakly. "I only know my Sentinel is in the hands of the   
most evil and powerful Shaman I've ever known, and I would do anything to get her   
back."  
  
Blair understood how she felt. He remembered the time Colonel Cromwell kidnapped   
Jim and the frantic twenty-four hours he spent trying to find Jim. He had never been so   
frightened, or so determined in his whole life. He had vowed to himself that he would   
move heaven and hell to get his Sentinel back.  
  
"Let's do it then."  
  
"Right."  
  
Both Blair and Ariel took a deep cleansing breath, centring themselves. Their eyes   
closed and they sank into a light meditating trance.   
  
Ariel reached out gently with her mind, to unlock the Shaman gifts she could sense laid   
buried in Blair. And when his gifts were free, Blair searched for their captive Sentinels   
with his mind and soul.   
  
***  
  
Blair found himself standing in a clearing, at the bank of a wide deep river. The blue-  
tinged jungle all around him looked a lot like the Peruvian jungle he trekked through   
in search of Simon and his son. He had never been here before, but he knew from the   
description his Sentinel told him that this had to be where Jim's Spirit Guide dwelled.   
  
"Not bad, for a beginning." Ariel stood knee-deep in the river, looking around at   
their surrounding. Deeper out in the river, Blair saw the long beak and grey body of a   
river creature breaking the surface of the water.   
  
Blair recognised the creature at once. "That's a tucuxi, a river dolphin."  
  
"My Spirit Guide. Very fickle at times." Ariel moved to get out of the river, but   
paused in mid-step. Her gaze moved to a spot somewhere behind him.   
  
Blair felt the hairs on the back of his nape rose as he finally became aware of a   
stranger's stare drilling into his back. He turned slowly, not sure what to expect. But   
the furry carnivore sitting on its haunches at the edge of the jungle was definitely not   
it.   
  
What in the world is a timber wolf doing in a Peruvian rainforest?  
  
Large yellow lupine eyes held his gaze steadily. Blair shifted his feet nervously. Those   
wolf eyes seemed to see right into his soul, weighing his worth. Then to his absolute   
astonishment, the wolf began to morph, transforming into the shape of a man. His   
jaws hit the ground when he recognised the new shape standing before him. The   
likeness was eerily identical, right down to the earring in the earlobe. But the dark   
blue eyes were wise and far-seeing, a quality Blair could not imagine himself every   
achieving. Neither could Blair imagine himself standing buck naked in the open, as   
liberal as he was. But the Spirit Guide was clearly unconcerned about its nakedness;   
its very posture of otherworldly power made modesty about as trivial as breathing.   
  
"What are you doing here?" the wolf Spirit Guide finally spoke. "We were not meant   
to meet at this point of time."   
  
Somehow Blair managed to find his voice. "I'm looking for my Sentinel. He has been   
taken from me."  
  
"That should not have happen." The Spirit Guide turned his gaze, anger radiating   
clearly from him. "You dabble in what you shouldn't, Shaman."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ariel apologised. "But my Sentinel was taken as well by our mutual foe.   
He would change everything, if he has his way. I cannot let that happen."  
  
"Then you too has a hand in the unravelling," a new voice added.  
  
Ariel spun round, eyes widening when she saw her mirror image rising from the river,   
wet and naked. Unlike the wolf, the newcomer was serenely composed, her eyes   
conveying her compassion and understanding.   
  
"Spirit Guide," she stammered. "I didn't mean...I'm sorry...please..."  
  
"Enough, young Shaman. Apology will not help you." The tucuxi Spirit Guide looked   
questioningly at her wolf counterpart.   
  
Some kind of silent communication seemed to pass between the two Spirit Guides, for   
the wolf sighed and nodded slightly. The tucuxi Spirit Guide smiled her gratitude.   
  
"We know of your plight, and we understand." The tucuxi Spirit Guide said. "But I   
cannot help you."   
  
"I will help you in your search," stated the wolf Spirit Guide. "But be warned: the   
paths of time are in danger. And its unravelling is as much of your doing as it is of   
your foe's."  
  
"I don't understand," Blair spoke up. "What unravelling? What paths of time?"  
  
"You will know when you get your Sentinels back," the tucuxi Spirit Guide said. Then   
she looked at Ariel directly in the eyes. "This will be your undoing, young Shaman.   
Are you prepared for the consequences?"  
  
"For my Sentinel, I would do anything."  
  
To Blair's unease, a look of profound sorrow darkened the beautiful tucuxi Spirit   
Guide's face. She turned away, heading back into the river. "Then may the heavens   
be with you, for I cannot."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ariel questioned, her face pale. "Aren't you my Spirit   
Guide?"  
  
The tucuxi Spirit Guide glanced back at Ariel lingeringly. "I am still your Spirit   
Guide, but where you will be going, I cannot follow. Be well, young Shaman."  
  
"Wait," Ariel said frantically, chasing after her Spirit Guide.   
  
But she was gone, morphing back into the enigmatic shape of a river dolphin, gliding   
through the water, singing her sorrow to the world. Ariel turned around, a desperate   
beseeching light in her eyes.   
  
"What does she mean? What have I done to compel her to abandon me in my time of   
need?"  
  
"You will know soon enough." The wolf Spirit Guide said solemnly. "Now we must   
go."  
  
The wolf Spirit Guide morphed back into the shape of the lupine creature. Turning   
away, it loped into the jungle, not waiting to see if they follow.   
  
"Come on!" Blair grabbed Ariel's wrist and dragged her after the disappearing wolf.   
"Before he gets out of sight!"  
  
"But my Spirit Guide-"  
  
"We'll sort that out later. Right now, we got to find our Sentinels!"  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
DAY THREE  
  
Even before his car screeched to a complete stop behind the Expedition parked off the   
side of the highway, Simon was already out and striding towards the objects of his   
irritation like a dark cloud.  
  
"Sandburg!" Simon scowled at the shorter man. "I hope you've a perfectly good   
reason for dragging me out into the middle of nowhere at dawn."  
  
"Simon, he's here."  
  
"Who? Jim?"  
  
Blair nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Jim! And J.E. too."  
  
"And how did you come by this information?"  
  
"We were meditating last night, going on a spiritual search or something like that, you   
know, searching for them with our minds. It has something to do with this Sentinel and   
Guide relationship. Anyway, it took us hours to locate them. Maybe it's because the   
Boss's a shaman too. But we found them. And we pinpointed their locations here, in   
this part of the forests."  
  
Simon looked at the excited Blair and equally eager Ariel with a mix of wariness and   
scepticism. "And?"   
  
"And? We have to rescue them, Simon. Notify the State Police, the S&R teams,   
whatever. But they are here, and the Boss is here. This is most likely where his drug   
lab is located."  
  
Simon looked at him for a long steady moment.  
  
"Um...Blair," Ariel whispered. "I don't think he believes us."  
  
"How remarkably observant of you," Simon smiled benignly at her.   
  
"But it's true, Simon." Blair insisted. "That's how we found them."  
  
"By going into a trance?"   
  
"Well, it's not really a trance. It's more of - what do you call it - searching on the   
spiritual plane."  
  
"Sandburg, do you know what you sound like?"  
  
"Don't answer that," Ariel muttered.  
  
"Like a crazy person?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Told you not to answer that," sighed Ariel.  
  
Blair ignored her, keeping his sombre gaze fixed on the burly captain. "Simon, please. I   
know it's hard to swallow, but they are here. Now we're going into the forests, and   
we're going to find them, with or without you."  
  
Simon debated with himself for less than a heartbeat, then gave in with a gusty sigh.   
"Fine, fine. I'll notify the State Police. But the both of you stay put. You don't go   
anywhere without me. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Blair grinned happily at him.  
  
Grumbling under his breath, vowing never to let his best team yank his chain ever   
again, Simon stalked back to his car to issue the relevant orders through the police   
radio.  
  
"He doesn't seem happy about this," Ariel murmured softly.  
  
"Don't worry about him," Blair replied airily as he jogged back to the Expedition.   
"He's all bark but no bite."  
  
"I heard that!"  
  
Blair grinned as he hauled two backpacks from the back of the Expedition. Finally they   
were doing something to rescue Jim and J.E., and putting a stop to the Boss's   
operations. It must be Jim's influence rubbing off him, but it sure felt good to be able   
to do something at last, instead of waiting around for the next blow to land.   
  
"Dylan's up to something," Ariel said absently, a strained faraway look in her eyes as   
she stared into the forests.   
  
"Any idea what?"  
  
"I don't know. But Jamie, she'd gone all feral and bloodthirsty." Ariel darted a   
frightened look in Blair's direction. "I can't recognise her presence anymore. And I   
don't think she recognises mine."  
  
***  
  
Jim woke from an uneasy slumber when he picked up the sounds of footsteps   
approaching his cell. Swiftly rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rose to his feet,   
determined not to be caught off guard.   
  
The heavy steel door clanged and swung open, admitting three men, all dressed in   
camouflage clothes and armed with a wide variety of arsenal. Jim quickly picked out   
the middle man as the leader from his carriage, probably somewhere high up in the   
hierarchy.  
  
"My name is Caleb," said the leader with cold politeness. "You will come with us."  
  
The two henchmen stepped forward to herd Jim towards the door, the muzzles of their   
automatic rifles pointing threateningly at him. Jaws set in a tight line, Jim silently   
followed Caleb out of his cell.   
  
They traversed dark dimly lit corridors in silence. Jim stretched out his senses, probing   
his surroundings. Vibrations too subtle to be felt by normal human senses told him   
where the drug manufacturing lab was. He could smell Golden and other chemicals in   
the air; his eyes discerned the minute water seepage staining the roof. Jim guessed they   
were somewhere underground, probably in the middle of nowhere. They climbed up a   
long flight of stairs to emerge in a large open clearing, proving him right.   
  
It was an overcast day. Storm clouds hung low and dark over the land; Jim could smell   
the rain coming. It was going to be quite a storm when it finally breaks.  
  
The Boss was waiting for him, with five other of his men. They were all dressed in   
camouflage clothes and armed. The Boss beamed cheerily at Jim. "Good morning,   
detective. I trust that you slept well."   
  
"What do you want?" Jim was running out of patience. "And where's Jamie?"  
  
"Oh, she's getting ready." The Boos inhaled deeply. "Ah, would you smell that fresh   
air? Sure beat the city where you're surrounded by pollution twenty-four hours a day.   
How did you stand all that pollution, with your sensitive senses? It must be quite a   
burden, being the Sentinel of the Great City."  
  
Jim levelled him a look cold enough to freeze. "I don't know what you're talking   
about."  
  
"Sure you don't." The Boss smiled condescendingly. "You see, that's the beauty of   
time. I know what will happen that you don't. And I know just how to yank your   
chains. Ah, here she is. Detective, I like you to meet the new Jamie Ellison. My   
hunter."  
  
Jim turned.   
  
His blood ran cold when he saw the tall lithe shape of the Eurasian woman emerging   
from the underground drug lab dressed in full camouflage gear. Her black hair was tied   
back; her face and every inch of her bare skin was painted in camouflage colours.   
Battle harness and belt, and a wide array of weapons completed her wardrobe. Her   
stance was different, more aggressive than Jim had ever seen her.  
  
"Jamie?"   
  
McKennitt's dark gaze swivelled and nailed him. Jim almost shrank back from the feral   
predatory look in her eyes. She didn't recognised him at all; simply eyed him as though   
he was nothing more than a piece of juicy morsel for a hungry carnivore.  
  
"It wasn't easy brainwashing her," the Boss said almost conversationally. "But it was   
certainly worth the effort. She's all primed to go hunting."  
  
"Hunting what?" Jim asked, though he knew the answer.  
  
"You, of course." The Boss beamed at him. "You're her prey. And she's conditioned   
to kill you. Which means you must fight for your survival."  
  
"You're a sick man, Dylan."  
  
The Boss shrugged. "I've been called worse. So here's the thing: I'll give you fifteen   
minutes' head start before I unleash my 'hound'. She'll track you down until you   
defeat her or she kills you, which of course terminates her existence as well. And   
there's no time limit to the hunt. The longer you stay alive, the better your chances.   
It's such a fine game, I must say."  
  
"Cut the crap, Dylan." Jim didn't dare to turn fully away from McKennitt, acutely   
aware of her bloodthirsty look fixated on him.  
  
"Oh well, can't say I'm not a sport." The Boss made a show of adjusting his watch.   
"Your time starts now!"  
  
Jim immediately sprinted for the forests, intent on getting as far away as he could. *If   
only I knew my exact location,* he thought grimly. *It would certainly made things   
easier.*  
  
***  
  
Thunder rumbled, followed by lightning cracking across the darkened sky.   
  
Blair jumped, glancing a little nervously up at the sky. In all the years he had lived in   
Cascade, he had never seen a storm gathered so fast without warning. It was as though   
the sky was protesting its disapproval.  
  
"The world's nervous," Ariel muttered softly, still not taking her gaze off the forests   
lining the side of the highway.  
  
"Nervous? As in how?" Blair asked worriedly.   
  
"I can't explain it," she shook her head in frustration. "It's like this dread building up   
inside me, around me, everywhere I go. It's as though everything's waiting for the   
other shoe to drop."  
  
Ariel finally looked away from the forests, only to gaze up at the stormy sky. "This   
isn't a natural storm, grandpa. The world's crying out its protest."  
  
"Sandburg! Doctor Sutherland!" Simon barked as he walked over to them with the   
State Police officer. "Saddle up, the both of you. We're heading out."  
  
"Grid search?" Sandburg asked, shouldering his backpack.   
  
"Yep," replied the officer. He gave them maps and showed them his. "You'll search   
this grid square with two other of my men."  
  
"That lies in the north-east direction," Ariel said. "We need to go south. That's where   
the drug lab is."  
  
"I assure you, Doctor, there's no way someone could build a camp site there, much   
less a drug lab. The terrain's too uneven. If there is a drug lab out here, it would've to   
be in the north-east direction. That's where even land and clearings can be found."  
  
"Simon, didn't you tell them we need to go south?" Blair asked.  
  
"Of course I did," Simon snapped. "But he insisted on taking the north-east."  
  
"And I still think I'm right," the officer interjected forcefully.   
  
"Even though the last time we were right in going in the opposite direction," Blair   
pointed out dryly.  
  
The county sheriff bristled, remembering the search for the fugitive criminal not too   
long ago.   
  
"Look, now isn't the time to fight." Simon stepped in hurriedly, trying to defuse the   
tense situation. "We got two of our own in trouble out there, as well as a drug   
organisation to deal with. So let's concentrate on the job, shall we?"  
  
"Fine," the officer said rather ungraciously. He stalked over to the crowd of State   
police cars where his men and the S&R teams were gathered, preparing for the search.  
  
"Look like we're not getting any help from him after all," Ariel observed.  
  
Simon glared at Sandburg. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason why you   
antagonised the sheriff."  
  
"Sorry, Simon." Blair apologised. "I'm just a bit edgy."  
  
"Sandburg, they'll be fine. Remember what they can do."  
  
"I remember, Simon. But I have this really bad feeling in my gut. What are the chances   
that the Boss won't use their gifts against them? He had done it before, you know,   
with Jim."  
  
Simon sighed. "All right, all right. I guess I need to get out more anyway." He ditched   
his trench coat into his car and put on a jacket instead. Then he snagged one of the   
backpacks the county police provided.   
  
"You're coming with us?" Blair was gratified beyond relief.  
  
Simon glowered at him. "Someone has to keep an eye on you while Jim's gone.   
Beside, I've this feeling that Ariel needs a keeper too, the way she keeps spacing out   
on us."   
  
"I'm not spacing out," Ariel protested. "I'm just very nervous."  
  
"Right." Simon obviously didn't believe her one bit. "Let's go."  
  
***  
  
Jim halted at the bank of the small river and stretched out his senses. He estimated he   
still had about ten minutes left to come up with some kind of plans. Far behind him, he   
could hear Caleb keeping time.   
  
"Be patient for a short while longer," he heard the Boss murmured soothingly,   
probably to McKennitt. "You'll get to hunt very soon."  
  
McKennitt's reply was a low eager growl.  
  
Jim shuddered, still not quite believing the change that came over the other Sentinel.   
She was all feral and bloodthirsty, vastly different from the Ice Queen she was reputed   
to be. *If this was the only way to unleash the passion in the woman,* Jim thought in   
gallows humour, *I would rather live with the Ice Queen.*  
  
Jim focused his attention on the river. This area of the forests was vaguely familiar to   
him. He fought his very human instincts to plunge into the forests at the other side of   
the river in a futile attempt to get as far away as he could from the other Sentinel. Jim   
knew no matter what, McKennitt would find him.   
  
A low feline rumble caught his ears. Jim looked down to see his Spirit Guide — a   
black panther — rubbing against his leg to get his attention.   
  
"If you want to help, now is a good time." Jim told the creature.   
  
His Spirit Guide pointed its nose downstream.  
  
"That way, huh? Good enough for me."  
  
Jim started jogging downstream, keeping to the cover of trees. He moved quickly,   
trying to cover as much distance as he could in ten minutes. He had no idea how wide   
a range McKennitt possessed; his only hope was to reach some kind of help before she   
finds and kills him.   
  
Always, he kept a tab on the happenings in the Boss's drug lab, orienting himself by   
that landmark. With all his senses turned up as far as he dared, he could hear every bit   
of activity happening in the drug lab.  
  
"Thirty seconds more to go," Caleb announced calmly.  
  
"Prime your weapons, men." The Boss ordered. Sounds of rifle chambers being   
hammered home echoed through the forests.   
  
"Twenty seconds more to go."  
  
"Are you ready?" The Boss asked in an oddly gentle voice.  
  
"Yes," McKennitt hissed.  
  
"Ten more seconds..."  
  
Jim poured on more speed, forsaking stealth for distance. Peculiarly, he flashed on the   
time he was in Peru, running through the jungle to save his Guide and friends. This   
time, he was running for his life from someone who possessed the same abilities he's   
got.   
  
"Three...two...one...mark."  
  
"Go!"  
  
McKennitt sprung into action, sprinting into the forests. She immediately latched onto   
Jim's trail, having kept track of his progress during the fifteen minutes. Forgoing the   
scent trail, she cut right across the thickly forested landscape, rapidly leaving the others   
behind.   
  
Jim skidded to a halt, having reached a rocky spot in the river. Behind him, he could   
hear McKennitt closing in. She was in full hunting mode: heart racing, breathing and   
steps silent even as she loped through the forests with ground-eating strides. Jim's only   
edge was that he was familiar with the area, albeit vaguely. He recalled a fishing spot   
where he thought he could use to his advantage. Deciding on a plan, Jim forded the   
river, remembering to turn his touch dial way down low against the icy waters. Hoping   
that would throw McKennitt off his trail for a short way, he ran on determinedly.   
  
Above them, thunder rumbled again and the sky darkened even more. Jim hoped the   
storm would arrive soon. At least the rain would wash out his scent and any tracks he   
left behind.   
  
***  
  
Kill him, said the insidious whisper in her head. Kill him before the rain comes and   
hinder you. Kill him, kill him, kill him...  
  
McKennitt growled, a sound halfway between fury and distress. She couldn't think;   
there was a red haze over her eyes, clouding her mind, her judgement. There was a   
deep aching hunger for blood in her gut screaming to be satisfied. And there was a face   
in her head. That face was all she could see, all she could think of. The face of her   
prey, taunting her. It was driving her crazy.   
  
McKennitt crouched, spotting a shoe print in the dirt. She studied it and hungrily   
sniffed the air around her. She could smell him; his scent laid heavy in this spot.   
  
"Well?" came the genteel voice impatiently behind her. "Are you on his trail?"  
  
McKennitt gazed at her master with hooded eyes. She grinned a teeth-baring grin at   
him and plunged into the forests again, chasing her prey with a single-mindedness   
worthy of any predator.  
  
Kill him, kill him, kill him...  
  
***  
  
The fishing spot was still where Jim remembered it. He breathed a small sigh of relief,   
glad to realise that his memory wasn't faulty in its strategic value. He stood at the edge   
of the small cliff, gauging the height of the cliff down to the shallow pool beneath.   
*Thank God Sandburg isn't here,* he thought irrelevantly. *He'll scream all the way   
down again.*  
  
Jim checked on the progress of his pursuers.   
  
They were about a mile and a half back, he gauged. McKennitt was still closing in fast;   
her rapid heartbeat gave her presence away even as her footsteps were silent. Behind   
her, he could make out the presence of five other people. Probably the Boss and his   
henchmen following the human bloodhound.   
  
Jim took one last glance at the cliff, then his jaws tightened with resolve. It was now or   
never.   
  
"Listen up." He was gratified to note that she stopped moving at once, paying full   
attention to what he was saying. "You want me, you come and get me. Alone. Sentinel   
to Sentinel."   
  
The hunting party did not move. Jim heard some low murmuring, probably discussing   
his challenge. Then someone laughed, the Boss he recognised.   
  
"Go," Jim heard him said. "Finish him off."  
  
There was an eager growl, then someone crashed through the forests like a predator.   
Jim turned his back to the edge of the cliff, bracing himself for the confrontation. He   
swept the forests with his eyes, at once pinpointing the small figure growing bigger as   
it advanced towards him.   
  
McKennitt certainly wasn't bothering with any of the animal trails. She cut straight   
across the thick foliage, bounding and vaulting across any obstacles in her way. Her   
feral eyes never left him, nailing him on the spot more effectively than any restraints.   
  
Jim took a tentative step backward. Unconsciously, he slipped into a defensive stance,   
ready to meet the attack head-on. "Come on, come on." He murmured under his   
breath.  
  
McKennitt kept coming right on. Her face twisted with an unholy bloodlust, teeth   
bared in a feral cry. A jagged knife flashed in one of her hands.   
  
"Come on, come on, COME ON!" Jim yelled his challenge.  
  
McKennitt screamed, a bloodcurdling scream that split the air, and pounced, knife   
flashing out to bury deep in warm flesh. Jim let loose a defiant cry, grabbing her wrist,   
holding the knife away from him. He spun on his footing, using McKennitt's   
momentum against her, bodily tossing her right over the cliff edge. He didn't want to   
hurt her, but she had other plans instead. Her clawed hand grasped the front of his shirt   
and held on tight.   
  
Pulled off balance, Jim fell with her. Down into the icy depths of the river.   
  
***  
  
The bloodcurdling scream echoing through the forests froze Blair and the others in   
their tracks. It sounded barely human, so full of bestial fury. Then it was joined by   
another cry, masculine and human in its defiance.   
  
"Please tell me that weren't them," Blair whispered, shaken by the chilling sounds.   
  
"Better start praying, Sandburg." Simon swallowed, then gathered his resolve. "Come   
on. I think it came from this way."  
  
***  
  
Jim gasped as he broke the surface of the icy waters, arms flailing to find a handhold,   
any handholds. He was being swept downstream by the rapid currents, tumbling past   
boulders and rocks in the river. He winced as he was slammed bodily against a boulder,   
reaching instinctively nevertheless for the anchor. Gasping for breath, he hauled himself   
onto the smooth wet boulder, almost doubled over in pain.   
  
God, his back felt like it was hit by a ton of bricks.   
  
Still clinging onto the boulder, Jim looked around him, pushing his senses outward.   
Shouts of chagrin drifted to him back from the cliff; it wasn't hard to guess that the   
Boss's hunting party had finally found the end of their human bloodhound's trail.   
  
"What now, Boss?" he heard Caleb asked.  
  
"Find them. They can't be far from here."  
  
Hidden by the river bend, the Boss eyed the river downstream, feeling their presence   
close and yet still tantalisingly far. He could sense Ellison's presence, bearing the pain   
of his injury. He could feel Jamie's presence, unconscious and close to death. He   
frowned and reached out with his mind. Despite a Sentinel's unusual metabolism, the   
amount of Golden he had pumped into her should still be potent enough for him to   
manipulate her mind.   
  
Jim searched the river with his senses, finally spotting the unconscious figure sprawled   
awkward across some rocky formation, face down in the water. Alarm spurred Jim to   
his feet, though he was shaking from the cold. Distractedly, he turned down his pain   
dial to zero as he staggered over to where McKennitt was. He hauled her out of the   
water, carrying her onto dry land like a sack of rice.   
  
Gently putting her down on the rocky surface, Jim placed a chilled finger against her   
nose. McKennitt had stopped breathing. Cursing under his breath, he swiftly applied   
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  
  
"Don't you dare die on me," he muttered under his breath.  
  
His prayer was answered when McKennitt began to splutter. Jim hastily turned her   
onto her side, smacking her back vigorously as she vomited the river water she had   
inadvertently swallowed.  
  
Jim watched her carefully, feeling a certain hope as he noted the dazed confused look   
on her face. It wasn't his intention to drown her or even hurt her; he needed to shock   
her back to her senses. And he figured the icy river was a good choice. Look like he   
was right.  
  
"Feeling better, Jamie?"  
  
McKennitt didn't reply, simply stared at him uncomprehendingly. The whispery vile   
voice in her head was gone, so was the red haze clouding her mind. For the first time in   
what she thought to be a long time, she was able to think for herself. And what she   
was able to put together in her still confused mind was not a pretty picture.   
  
"Shit," she whispered. "What have I done?"  
  
Get up, the insidious whisper returned in full force. Get up and kill him...  
  
McKennitt clapped her hands over her ears, doubling over in agony. "Get the fuck out   
of my head!"  
  
Kill him, kill him, kill him...  
  
"NO!"  
  
Jim reached out to the younger Sentinel, wrapping her in his arms, attempting to hold   
her together even as she fought to reclaim her mind. He didn't know what exactly was   
going on, but he could make an educated guess.   
  
"Fight it, Jamie. You can do it."  
  
"I can't!"  
  
"Listen to my voice. Listen to what I say. Don't listen to what the other voice is   
saying. Hear only my voice," Jim repeated that over and over again, wishing that Ariel   
was here. Her Guide would certainly know what to do. "Come on, Jamie. You can do   
it. Fight it, fight it."  
  
"Kill him," her voice was so soft that Jim could barely hear her despite his more than   
excellent hearing. But he had no problem hearing her shout. "KILL HIM!"  
  
McKennitt moved, twisting out of his embrace to fasten her hands around his throat.   
Jim fell back, pinned to the ground by her weight. Choking, he clawed at her hands,   
trying to pull away her death grip. Above him, her face contorted into a mask of bestial   
eagerness.   
  
Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes when he finally marshalled his strength   
for one last attack. Opening his palms, he clapped her ears sharply.   
  
McKennitt immediately let go, yelping in pain. Still wheezing from near strangulation,   
Jim pushed her away and staggered to his feet, pulling himself together for the next   
attack. Recovering faster than he expected, McKennitt pulled out a wicked-looking   
knife from her boot. Jim didn't have any kind of weapon. Both Sentinels circled each   
other, waiting for an opening to strike.   
  
"Jim!" The unexpected cry broke Jim's concentration. Involuntarily, his head whipped   
around to see Blair's horrified stare.   
  
McKennitt's scream snagged his attention next. Snapping back to the battle at hand,   
Jim was just in time to block her knife's downward stab straight towards his heart.   
Knocked to the ground, Jim grappled with her, trying wrest her knife away from her.  
  
Extra hands swiftly came to his rescue, helping to pull the crazed McKennitt off him.   
"Get off him now!" Simon's voice was a welcomed sound.   
  
Ariel was soon by his side. "Jim! Are you all right?"   
  
"What took you guys so long?" he managed to gasp out.  
  
"Kill him!"   
  
Ariel jumped at the sound. She stared at McKennitt struggling mightily against her   
human restraints. Both Simon and Blair fought manfully, trying to keep her pinioned   
on the ground. Her bloodthirsty glare sent chills up her spine. Jim staggered to his feet,   
moving quickly to help restrain the struggling woman.   
  
"You all right?" Blair managed to ask, ducking to avoid her thrashing head. "Hey,   
watch it."   
  
"Yeah." Jim quickly hooked a strong arm about her neck, trying his best to immobilise   
her.  
  
"What the hell wrong with her?" Simon grunted.  
  
"The Boss," Jim replied hoarsely.   
  
"Kill him!" McKennitt shouted again.  
  
"No." Ariel calmly stepped forward. "You will not kill him."  
  
"Kill him!" she snarled.  
  
"I said no." Ariel effortlessly caught McKennitt's frenzied gaze. "This is not you,   
Jamie. Listen to me, my voice, not to the one in your head."  
  
Everyone watched tersely, as the diminutive Guide slowly approached her out-of-  
control Sentinel, speaking all the time in a soft soothing voice. Never letting go of   
McKennitt's gaze, Ariel knelt before her and slowly reached out with a hand.   
  
McKennitt flinched back from her touch, snarling and nearly biting Ariel's fingers off if   
not for Simon's quick thinking. The burly captain grabbed a fistful of her wild hair,   
holding her head still in a death grip.  
  
"I'm here, Jamie." Ariel continued in that soothing hypnotic voice of hers. "Let me   
help you."  
  
McKennitt growled at her.   
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," Blair warned softly as Ariel carefully laid her fingers   
on McKennitt's temple.  
  
Ariel ignored him, simply concentrating on bringing her Sentinel back. //I'm here,   
Jamie. Feel my presence in your mind. Let me bring peace to you, let me soothe you.//  
  
As Blair watched, fascinated, McKennitt cringed under Ariel's touch. Impossibly, a   
whimper escaped from her, then her entire body began to tremble. She was afraid of   
Ariel, he suddenly realised. He stared wide-eyed at the scenario. The Sentinel was   
actually afraid of her own Guide.   
  
At his side, Jim stiffened. Attuned to his Sentinel's every move, Blair shifted his   
attention to him. "What's wrong, Jim?"  
  
"The Boss's hunting party's coming this way," Jim reported.   
  
"Hunting party?" Simon echoed.  
  
"I'll explain later. We've got to get out of here."  
  
"That sounds like a great idea, Jim." Blair began uncertainly. "But I don't think they're   
even in this world, spiritually speaking."  
  
Jim looked at the two women kneeling motionlessly on the ground, oblivious to their   
surrounding, and bit off a curse. Instinctively, he knew Blair was right. Whatever the   
two were doing, they were too deep in it. Any disruption could be fatal to either party.   
He scanned the forests, evaluated their arsenal, then quickly made his decision.  
  
"Strip J.E. of her weapons. We'll need it."  
  
"What are you planning to do?" Simon asked as he proceeded to relieve McKennitt of   
her weapons.  
  
Jim quickly outlined his plan as he armed himself with the hunting rifle, handgun and   
bowie knife.   
  
"You sure it would work?" Blair asked doubtfully.   
  
"You got a better idea?"  
  
***  
  
Half the morning was nearly gone before Fillmore deemed the time right.   
  
The Indians had left early in the morning, only returning hours later to the glass house   
with one wounded and one missing.  
  
Fillmore peered through the scope of his rifle, checking on the Indians. The one injured   
seemed to have connected with a gun somehow. He wondered thoughtfully just what   
kind of trouble the Indians had walked into.  
  
Checking his watch, Fillmore debated whether he should wait for the last Indian to   
return before carrying out his plan. His debate was cut short when he noticed the fifth   
Indian finally entering the glass house with a box full of - what? Fillmore lifted his   
scope rifle again for a closer view. Fruits, the Indians had brought back fruits. And it   
seemed that one of the younger Indians enjoyed the taste of an apple.   
  
Fillmore smirked, deciding perversely to let the Indians have this meal. It would be   
their last anyhow, so might as well let them enjoy it.   
  
***  
//Pagan? Is it really you?//  
  
//Yes, Jamie. It's me.//  
  
//Help me, pagan. He gave me something. I can't make the voice stop. I can't...//  
  
//Sssh...I'm here, Jamie. I'll make it stop. I'll make it all better.//  
  
***  
  
The Boss studied the tableau before them through his binoculars. McKennitt and Ariel   
knelt at the rocky river bank of the river, facing each other. The Sentinel wore her   
battle fatigues and paint, but her weapons were all missing. Ariel stared deeply into her   
eyes, fingers at her temples, oblivious to the world around her. To anyone else, the   
scene would be bizarre. But to him, it spelled out Ariel's goal louder than words.   
  
"Oh no, you don't." He whispered softly. "She's mine. You won't take her away from   
me again." He lowered his binoculars. "Caleb, send some scouts down there."  
  
Far from the bank, hidden by the thick forests, Simon watched silently as two men   
dressed in hunting clothes cautiously approached the women at the river bank. Beside   
him, Jim carefully cocked his hunting rifle, trying not to make a single sound. Among   
the three of them, only Jim had the advantage of sight.   
  
"Now?" Blair asked in a soft whisper.   
  
"No, not yet." Jim replied distantly, gaze intent on the approaching danger. "They're   
just the scouts."   
  
"All clear," they heard one of the scouts shouted.  
  
Minutes later, the rest of the hunting party joined the scouts at the river bank. Simon   
let out a soundless whistle, surprised at the number of men in the hunting party. "You   
have ten people hunting you?"  
  
Jim merely shrugged. Unconsciously slipping into full Sentinel mode, he absently   
removed the scope of the hunting rifle and lifted the weapon to his eyes. Picking a   
target at random, he opened fire.   
  
"Scatter!" Caleb yelled as the henchman next to him fell to the ground, blood spurting   
from his throat.   
  
Jim didn't give them a chance to find shelter. Smoothly changing his angle, he sighted   
and fired again. And again and again. All in all, his hunting rifle sounded five times and   
five times, his aim found its mark.   
  
The Boss ducked and rolled. In a fluid move, he was behind the unresponsive Ariel,   
one arm curled around her neck and the other pressing his gun against her temple.   
  
"Damn." Jim lowered his hunting rifle. "Bastard's using Ariel as his human shield."  
  
"Is there anyway you can get him without hurting her?" Blair asked anxiously.  
  
Jim started to lift his hunting rifle again but lowered it again. "No." He shook his head   
in frustration. "I might hit one of them by accident."   
  
"What the hell are they doing down there?" Simon growled in irritation and not a bit of   
worry. "Shouldn't they have snapped out of whatever they're doing by now?"  
  
"Detective Ellison," the Boss called out. "I strongly suggest a cease fire, or you might   
find Ariel with a bullet in her lovely head."  
  
Caleb scurried across the river bank to his side. Without a word, he took out his   
handgun and pressed it against McKennitt's head. Both women did not response, still   
locked in their inner world.   
  
"Ellison!" The Boss spoke again. "I'll make you a trade. You for them. Or they both   
die. How about it?"  
  
"It's a bad trade," Blair murmured worriedly. "Either way, he wins."  
  
Jim's jaws flexed again. Blair was right; the situation sucks. And what's worse, he   
could see no way out of it.   
  
Above them, the sky rumbled ominously again and darkened some more, as though the   
heavens were angry observers. A strong wind began to pick up, howling through the   
forests like a wild demon.   
  
And very clearly he heard a whisper on the wind. Or was it in his mind? Saying, //Get   
ready...//  
  
*I'm ready,* he replied silently. Raising the hunting rifle, he aimed at the group down   
by the river bank.   
  
"Jim!" Simon hissed. "What are you doing?!"  
  
The two motionless figures held hostage by the Boss' henchmen suddenly came to life.   
With a yell that reverberated through the mountains, McKennitt slammed her elbow   
into Caleb's middle and lunged for the next henchman. Jim's rifle shots split the air,   
taking out the henchman about to attack her from behind. He never stopped firing,   
making sure their enemies stayed down one way or the other.   
  
In the midst of the chaos, Ariel launched her own attack on the Boss. Dylan actually   
stumbled backward, taken by surprise by the suddenness and aggression of her attack.   
But he rallied himself quickly. Ariel blanched from the ferocity of his counter-attack.  
  
The Boss grinned viciously. //You're no match for me, sister.//  
  
//I won't let you win.// Ariel's face tightened with resolve as she fought back.  
  
McKennitt rose fluidly from the dead body, harsh breaths escaping through her   
clenched teeth. In her hand, she clutched a bowie knife she foisted off one of her preys.   
The knife was stained in blood up to its hilt. Hearing running footsteps behind her, she   
wheeled around, bowie knife up defensively.  
  
Jim braked to a halt, hands spread apart to show he was unarmed. He cautiously   
approached McKennitt, not liking the wild and still slightly feral look in her eyes.   
"Whoa, easy, Jamie. It's only me."   
  
McKennitt glared at him for a moment longer, before recognition flowed in. She   
lowered her knife. "Sorry." She glanced at the dead bodies littered all around them.   
"We're missing one body."  
  
Jim counted the number of dead bodies scattered on the river bank. He didn't find   
Caleb among them. "So we are. But we got what we really want." He walked over to   
the still figures of Ariel and the Boss, the former still kneeling and the latter standing   
motionlessly. It was clear from the strained looks on their faces that they were engaged   
in a fierce battle of their own.   
  
"What are we going to do about them?" Blair asked worriedly.   
  
McKennitt wiped her knife on her trousers, eyeing the Boss with a deadly hatred.   
Changing her grip on her knife, she stalked over to the Boss. "Kill him."  
  
Jim quickly blocked her downward stab. "No, this isn't the way."  
  
"He tried to make me kill you," McKennitt retorted furiously. "He tried to kill Ariel.   
He's been a thorn in my side for way too long. I want him dead!"  
  
"It's not the way," Jim insisted firmly. Grasping her wrist in a death grip, he tugged at   
the knife clutched in her hand. "Trust me, it's not the way."  
  
McKennitt stared at him, breaths coming out in harsh pants. Her eyes shimmered; a   
turmoil of emotions radiating to one and all. Jim could read pain in those eyes, a kind   
of rage and grief that he saw in rape victims.   
  
His expression softened with understanding. "Trust me, it's not worth it."  
  
McKennitt stood poised for a moment, body quivering with barely restrained hatred.   
Slowly, the red haze clouding her mind faded, to be replaced by an overwhelming   
dizziness. Her proud stance crumbled as her eyes rolled back into her sockets, limbs   
trembling and jerking.  
  
"Jamie!" Jim caught her seizing body in her arms. "I need a hand here."   
  
Simon and Blair scrambled over towards him. "What's wrong with her?" Simon was   
alarmed to see white froth staining McKennitt's lips.   
  
"Overdose," Jim replied tersely. "The Boss must've doped her up on something, and   
she's now only reacting to it. Chief, get Ariel."  
  
"Jim, she's in the middle of a battle right now. I can't just go -"  
  
"Do it, Sandburg." Simon snapped. "Or we're going to have a dead woman very   
soon."  
  
Abruptly, a storm rose. The sky opened up, dumping icy cold rain onto the earth.   
Winds howled, as lightning streaked across the sky and struck the earth with a   
resounding thunder. Simultaneously, Ariel and Dylan flinched away from each other, as   
though they were physically shoved apart. Blair moved quickly to Ariel's side; Simon   
pulling his gun on the Boss just as swiftly.  
  
"Don't move," Simon snarled. He moved cautiously towards the Boss still staring at   
Ariel with a look of blank shock on his face.  
  
Ariel stared back at him, equally stunned. Blair didn't think either of them heard   
Simon's command.   
  
"Ariel," Jim called, still cradling McKennitt in his arms. "I could use your help right   
now."  
  
Ariel tore her gaze away from the Boss with an effort. "Jamie?" She finally spotted the   
thrashing form of her Sentinel in Jim's arms. The young Shaman staggered dazedly   
over to them with Blair's help, half-blinded by the icy rain.   
  
"She's suffering from an overdose of drug," Jim informed her. "I don't know what   
kind. But my best guess is Golden."  
  
Ariel cupped McKennitt's face in trembling hands, moving one palm to rest over her   
chest. A heartbeat later, she recoiled back, a stricken look on her face.  
  
"What?" Jim asked, exchanging an alarmed look with Blair.   
  
Ariel shook her head mutely, but her eyes practically screamed a kind of horror she   
could not put into words.  
  
"Ariel, what is it?" Blair pressed, feeling his own panic rising. "Is it J.E.?"   
  
"NO!" The anguished scream caught all them off-guard.   
  
Wheeling around, they saw the Boss struggling wildly, knocking Simon to the ground.   
Still screaming incoherently, Dylan dashed away, plunging back into the forests. With a   
curse, Simon rose to his feet and started to go after him.   
  
"Her heart stopped." Jim suddenly announced tersely. Lying McKennitt down on the   
ground, he hastily moved to clear her airway. "Simon, we need to get her medical   
attention fast!"  
  
"Do something," Blair urged Ariel, yelling to be heard in the storm.   
  
"I can't," Ariel stammered.  
  
"Ariel, she's dying!"  
  
"I can't heal her!" Ariel shouted, pinning Blair with agonised eyes. "I lost it!"  
  
Blair stared at her.   
  
"I lost my gifts! All of it!" Ariel turned away from him, staring in hopeless grief at the   
two men trying to save her Sentinel.   
  
"...Nineteen, twenty." Simon counted as he pumped McKennitt's chest. "Nothing,   
Jim."  
  
"One more time." Jim pried open McKennitt's mouth again to blow air into her lungs.   
  
A firm grasp on Ariel's shoulders turned her gaze back to a determined Blair. "You   
can save her."  
  
Ariel started to deny it. "I can't -"  
  
"You can!" Blair shouted, shaking her. "You can and you will because you are her   
Guide! Even before you became Shaman! You. Are. Her. Guide."   
  
Ariel stared into his determined eyes, then back at the unconscious form of her   
Sentinel. Then she galvanised into action. Scrambling over to McKennitt's side, she   
gently pushed Jim and Simon away from her Sentinel.  
  
"You sure you know what you're doing?" Simon couldn't help but ask.  
  
Ariel ignored him. Feeling as though her heart was in her mouth, she reached out and   
clasped McKennitt's face in her palms. //Spirit Guide, help us. Help her. Please,// she   
prayed, throwing every bit of her will into it. //I can't live without her. I beg you. Do   
not forsake her. Please.//  
  
A retching sound escaped McKennitt. She coughed once and to everyone's surprise,   
McKennitt stirred suddenly and a yellow-coloured bile spilled from her lips.  
  
Instinctively, Jim quickly moved to flip her onto her side, even though his stunned   
mind was still unable to get over what he had just witnessed. He gazed in dumb   
disbelief at Ariel, even under his hands, McKennitt was retching the contents of her   
stomach. For her part, Ariel was smiling and crying, a look of sheer joy on her face.   
  
"You mind telling me what was that all about?" he finally managed to ask.   
  
Ariel smiled brilliantly at him through her tears. "Later, Jim. Right now, she needs a   
hospital."  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
INTERLUDE  
  
The Boss ran blindly through the forests, half-crazed, his mind churning and twisting.   
There was an emptiness in his soul, a gaping hole that erupted so suddenly, without   
warning. He finally stumbled to a halt, collapsing to his knees, panting from his mad   
dash through the forests. He stared up at the crying sky, feeling the icy raindrops burnt   
his face as they pelted down on him.   
  
He stretched upward with his arms, clawed hands reaching for the heavens. "I am a   
shaman!" he screamed. "Why did you take away my power?!"   
  
Dylan let his arms felled to his sides. "Spirit Guide, come to me." He closed his eyes,   
mentally seeking for his animal spirit. "Tell me why."  
  
The hiss of a snake filled his ears. A blissful smile crossed Dylan's face as he listened to   
the voice from the other world.   
  
"Boss?"  
  
His eyes snapped open at the new voice. Standing before him was Caleb, drenched and   
bleeding from a shoulder wound. "Caleb, I see you've escaped them."  
  
"I daren't stay. The cop McKennitt was like a wild animal." Caleb approached the   
Boss. "Are you all right?"  
  
Dylan smiled coldly. Caleb shivered, not liking the strange gleam in the Boss's eyes.   
The Boss rose to his feet.   
  
"They've won this round." The Boss turned, unerringly heading in the direction of his   
drug lab. "Come. We have much to do and so little time left."  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
A WEEK LATER  
  
"Other than a heap of ash, and the garbage area, the place was totally cleaned out." Jim   
reported. "No trace of Golden, equipment, or document left."  
  
"Nada," Blair added for emphasis.  
  
It had a hectic week for the Major Crimes unit. After they had reached safety, and sent   
McKennitt to the nearest ER, Jim had convinced the State Police officer to gather up   
his men and led them to the drug lab. Needless to say, the officer was utterly unhappy   
to have his hunches proven wrong for the second time by the same detective. But when   
they had arrived at the location, the place was abandoned and there was a burning   
stench in the air. By the time they started clean-up, it was clear to one and all that   
whatever evidence there was no longer exist.  
  
Outside the building, it was still pouring cats and dogs. It had been raining   
continuously for a week now and it showed no signs of letting up. All these rain made   
investigation in the forests almost impossible, as it washed away practically any traces   
left behind on ground level.   
  
"So we have no evidence against the Boss," Simon said.  
  
"Other than our reports and accounts..." Jim's voice trailed off in frustration.   
  
Simon took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How the hell did he   
manage to clear out of there so quickly? His drug lab was situated right in the middle   
of nowhere, for crying out loud."  
  
"He probably had a contingency plan in place," Blair offered glumly. "Anticipating all   
kinds of possible trouble. Which means we're back to square one."  
  
Simon sighed. "And McKennitt? How is she?"  
  
"Conscious and lucid," Jim replied. "They're moving her out of the ICU today. I heard   
Ariel told you about her being Sentinel. So how does it feel having two of us under   
your command?"  
  
Simon scowled at him. "Don't go there, Ellison. You really don't want to go there."   
  
Jim grinned.   
  
He crossed in front of Simon's desk, heading for the stack of reports on the conference   
table, when a dizzy spell hit him. His world flipped and darkened. For a terrifying   
moment, he didn't know which way was up and which was down.   
  
{Incacha, sir. His name is Incacha. He'd already confessed to me with a strong claim   
of self defence.}  
  
Jim stared, unable to believe his eyes.   
  
Standing before Simon's desk was himself dressed in different clothes. And Simon, he   
too was dressed in different clothes, and he was scowling at his double who was   
shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Blair was gone; he had somehow disappeared.   
Outside the office, the sky was clear and shining brightly.   
  
He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. How could this be?  
  
{So we have him in custody?} the different Simon asked.  
  
{Uh, he was, sir. He managed to slip away, captain.}  
  
{Slip away? Jim, you let a confessed murderer, a primitive one at that, escaped?}  
  
The scene faded out. Once more, his world flipped with a nauseous twist. When   
everything righted once more, he found himself back in Simon's office. With the   
captain and Blair staring at him.   
  
"Jim? You all right?" Blair asked with concern. "You zoned out there for a moment."  
  
"It wasn't a zone, Chief."  
  
"Then what was it?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Maybe you're coming down with something," Simon suggested.   
  
"Maybe." But it was clear that Jim didn't think so. And neither does Blair too.  
  
Simon's telephone rang.   
  
"Banks," the captain barked into the mouthpiece. He listened for a while, then said, "all   
right, I'll send them down." He replaced the receiver. "That was Brown. He's at a   
scene of a murder, and he found something which he claimed required Sandburg's   
expertise."  
  
"Me?" Blair was genuinely surprised.   
  
"Yes, you."  
  
"We're on our way, sir." Jim made a quick exit, still preoccupied with the weird vision   
he had experienced.   
  
***  
  
The Ford Expedition pulled up to a halt in front of an old building, one of those unique   
ones that has a greenhouse on the roof.  
  
"Come on, Jim. Tell me what's going on." Blair persuaded for the hundredth time   
since they hit the road.   
  
"There's nothing to tell, Chief."  
  
"You sure didn't look as though there's nothing to tell," Blair countered. "Maybe if I   
know what's going on, I can come up with something, an explanation or something."  
  
"Chief," Jim sighed as he turned off the Expedition's engine. "How do I relate   
something to you when I don't even know what it is I've experienced?...Look, we'll   
discuss this later, all right?"  
  
"Fine," Blair grumbled, disappointed. "Whatever you say."  
  
Jim was thankful that he was still in the Expedition when the dizzy spell hit him again.   
This time, when the scenery changed, he saw his double, this time with Blair by his   
side, and they were staring up at the building. Looking up, he saw three Indians   
rappelling down the side of the building. His double ran over to the fence and yelled   
something at them.   
  
Jim started. His double was speaking in Chopec!  
  
Then the scene faded and he was back where he was. Staring bewilderedly at Blair   
standing right in front of him, holding an umbrella in hand..   
  
"Now will you tell me what the hell is going on?" Blair was alarmed at this apparent   
new symptoms in his Sentinel and it showed.  
  
Jim stared at him, then at the police and forensic swarming over the building. His gut   
suddenly twisted, as he knew suddenly he was going to find something terrible at the   
scene.  
  
"Jim? Talk to me, man."  
  
"Later, Chief." Jim got of his Expedition. "Right now, we got a homicide to solve."  
  
Crossing the street, they met Brown as he emerged from the building.   
  
"Glad you guys came," the young detective said without preamble. "Got the call over   
the radio two blocks away and responded. When I saw the dead bodies, I knew   
straight away that Sandburg would be able to shed some light on the case. Or at least   
help confirm if they were the genuine article or not."  
  
"What do you mean 'genuine article'?" Blair questioned.  
  
Brown motioned for them to follow him.   
  
"What do we know so far?" Jim asked.   
  
"There are five victims. All had fatal gunshot wounds. The uniformed found the bodies   
in the greenhouse on the roof and several glass panes were broken. My guess is   
someone picked them off with a scope rifle from the building across the street." Brown   
shook his head. "The victims were basically sitting ducks."  
  
They stopped at the first of the five body bags lying on the ground in a straight row.   
Blair swallowed, not looking forward to this. Brown unzipped the first body bag,   
pulling apart the flaps to reveal the face.   
  
Blair's eyes widened when he saw the Indian's face and the markings painted on it.   
"He's one of the victims?" he asked, as he knelt down to examine the serene face.   
  
"Yep. So is he a genuine primitive?"  
  
"I'm not sure. But from all these markings, I guess chances are he's from one of the   
indigenous tribes down in Peru."  
  
"Chopec," said a hoarse voice very softly. "He's a Chopec."  
  
"What?" Blair was startled to see Jim standing so still, staring at the body. His face   
was pale and seemed carved from stone, and his stance was rigid. Then pieces of the   
puzzle fell together. Blair rose to his feet, reaching out to his Sentinel. "Oh God. Jim,   
I'm sorry."   
  
"His name was Moi," Jim continued tonelessly, as though he didn't hear Blair. "One of   
the tribe's warriors."  
  
Brown stared at the older detective, mouth agape. "You actually know this guy?" he   
managed to splutter out.  
  
"Uh, Brown, do you think you could give us some time alone with the bodies?" Blair   
asked, sensing that this tragedy was too close to Jim's heart.  
  
"Sure," the other detective withdrew respectfully.   
  
"Jim," Blair said gently, "there are four more bodies."  
  
Reluctantly, Jim unzipped the second body bag. "Nanto," he identified the second   
victim. Then he went on. "Ali, Amo. They were brothers."  
  
He reached the last body bag and unzipped it. And he fell dead silent, staring at the last   
body in shock.   
  
"Jim?" Blair reached out and clasped a broad shoulder. He didn't like the sudden pallor   
that came over Jim's face, nor did he like the trembling in the shoulder beneath his   
palm. "Who is this?"  
  
The answer was barely audible. "Incacha."   
  
***  
  
"Pagan?"  
  
Ariel turned away from the hospital window at the sound of McKennitt's voice and   
crossed over to the bed. Her Sentinel was blinking, waking from a long nap.  
  
"How are you feeling?" she asked.  
  
"If I have to stay in bed anymore longer, it's going to drive me up the wall."   
McKennitt groused good-naturedly. "Prop me up, will ya?"  
  
Ariel did as she was asked, making McKennitt comfortable in bed. She was unusually   
quiet, something that her Sentinel did not miss.  
  
"What's bothering you, pagan?"  
  
"The weather, the Boss, your visions, everything." McKennitt was quiet, watching her   
Guide paced her room agitatedly. "I can feel it all unravelling, like, like a tapestry being   
pulled apart strand by strand. Every event, every little incident out there has gone   
wrong. It's making things worse, and I've got no idea how to stop it!...Then again,   
even if I knew how, I wouldn't be able stop it. All my gifts are gone."   
  
"Not gone, Ariel. Just dormant again."  
  
Ariel stared at McKennitt incredulously. "What?"  
  
"How do you think you managed to revive me?"  
  
"I asked your Spirit Guide."  
  
"Well, at least you're still able to commune with the spiritual plane. You haven't lost   
your touch."   
  
Ariel went and sat on the edge of her bed. "I'm scared, Jamie."  
  
"So am I, pagan." McKennitt drew her into a comforting hug. "So am I."   
  
***  
  
"I should have been there," Jim repeated for the countless time since they returned   
home that night.  
  
"Jim, stop blaming yourself. You have no way of knowing Incacha was even in   
Cascade!"  
  
"But I should have guessed something was up!" Jim retorted. "I dreamt of Incacha just   
a few nights ago. He was trying to tell me of something."  
  
"What thing?" Blair crossed from the kitchen to the living room, moving to plant   
himself in front of his pacing Sentinel, forcing him to a stop. "Jim, you're not making   
any sense."  
  
"The other night, I dreamt of Incacha. We were in the jungle and he was trying to tell   
me something."  
  
"What was he trying to tell you?"  
  
"I don't know!" Jim threw up his arms in frustration. He stomped away, heading for   
the balcony windows. "I don't remember what he said. I don't know why he's in   
Cascade, or how he got here. I don't know!"  
  
Jim rested his head against the cold window pane, trying to calm himself down. It was   
frustrating to have all these questions and not even a single hint of the answers. In the   
living room, Blair waited patiently, sensing the inner struggle he was going through.  
  
"He was more than just the shaman who guided me," Jim spoke softly. He turned,   
leaning wearily against the window. "He was a friend. The Chopec, they have never   
seen a white man before and I was the first. Most of them didn't trust me. They only   
accepted me because I was a Sentinel and Incacha had vouched for my worthiness."   
  
Jim left the window and slumped tiredly into the yellow armchair. "I was their   
warriors' leader, I aided in helping the Chopec Pass safe. I earned their respect, but   
Incacha, he was my friend. He was there when I was injured, when I was alone. He   
helped me to adapt, how to use my senses. He was there when I needed a companion   
the most. Much like you, Chief."  
  
Jim sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm going up to bed, Chief. See you in the   
morning."  
  
He rose from the couch when another dizzy spell hit him, knocking him back onto the   
cushions again.   
  
"Jim?" Blair yelped, racing to his side at once.   
  
But Jim no longer heard him, staring at the scene that unfolded before him.   
  
{He wants me to become Sentinel once again, to help save the tribe.}  
  
{Good, good. It's about time,} the other Blair stammered his relief.  
  
It was daytime. Incacha laid on the loveseat, bleeding profusely from a stomach   
wound. Then the Shaman reached out weakly and grabbed Blair's arm.  
  
{He passes over the way of the Shaman to you,} his double was translating. His   
shock was obvious to one and all. {He wants you to guide my animal spirit.}  
  
Blair was close to panicking. {Wait a minute, I don't know how to do that.}  
  
The scene changed and he was staring at a dark empty loft, barren of all furnishing and   
heat. The front door opened and Blair entered, with a tall stylishly dressed woman by   
his side.   
  
{The circuits' dead,} Blair noted. Hi voice echoed eerily in the barren loft. {What is   
going on here?}  
  
{What do you want?}  
  
Jim's head whipped around. His double was now standing on the balcony, his stance   
practically radiating tension and a kind of strange apprehension. What the hell is going   
on? He really wanted to know.  
  
{Hey, Jim, where is everything, man?}  
  
{I put it in the basement. There's too many distractions. Place's getting way too   
cluttered.}  
  
{It's freezing in here,} spoke the woman with a thick Australian accent. {Aren't you   
cold?}  
  
{Something's going on out there,} his double was stating. {Something's very wrong.   
I've never felt anything like this before.}  
  
{Sandburg's always trying to get me to take up meditation or some such thing.}  
  
Jim recognised the scene at once. It was before Blair moved in, when his loft was still   
sparsely furnished. He remembered that night he invited Beverly Sanchez to his home   
for a beer, that night when Danny Choi died so senselessly.  
  
{But I figure, with this place, who needs it, you know?} His double rose from the   
fireplace and went to the loveseat where Beverly was seated. {Carolyn never seem to   
like it, though. She thought it was too quiet.}  
  
{That's the best part,} replied Beverly Sanchez.  
  
{Jim, I need you to listen to me!}  
  
{What the hell are you going to do?! Are you going to tell me to calm down now?!}  
  
His double and Beverly Sanchez on the loveseat disappeared, replaced by Incacha   
again. Only he was truly dead this time and there were forensics taking photos. Jim felt   
his hackles bristled. Nobody takes photos of the Chopec when they were dead. It was   
considered disrespect.  
  
{No, I'm not going to tell you to calm down. I need your emotions up and I need them   
open.} Blair was yelling at his double in the kitchen, gesturing to bring his point   
across. {You got to get your senses back. You heard what he said. You got to become   
the Sentinel to save the tribe.}  
  
"Jim?"  
  
{What the hell am I going to do? I don't even know where anybody is. A forest in the   
sky, what forest in the sky?!}  
  
"Jim?"  
  
{I don't know either. But I know there's one gunman on the path. Now he told us what   
we got to do, so come on!}  
  
"Jim! Snap out of it!"  
  
Jim jumped, feeling the sting of a light slap on his cheek. He blinked, staring at Blair   
confusion, then at his loft. He was back.   
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Jim," Blair began in a tight voice, "you zoned for five minutes. I don't know what you   
zoned out on, but you tell me. Maybe we can do something about it."  
  
Jim shook his head. "It wasn't a zone."  
  
"Then what was it?" Blair let loose some of the frustration and fear he was feeling.   
"Do you know you scared the living daylight out of me? All of a sudden, you just sat   
down and stared off into space!"  
  
"It wasn't a zone." Jim rose from the yellow armchair, moving to check his loft for   
anymore eerie visitors. "I-I was seeing things, events."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I saw Incacha on this loveseat," Jim gestured to the piece of furnishing. "He was   
dying and he passed the way of the Shaman to you."  
  
Blair stared at him, not sure whether if Jim had finally lost it. "Jim, I've never saw   
Incacha before until today in that body bag."  
  
"I know, Chief. I know. But the scene felt so real, like it really happened. Then I saw   
some other things, like the night Beverly Sanchez was here. We were having a beer   
and talking. Everything, everything was so accurate, right down to the temperature and   
the gestures she made." Jim began to pace, struggling to make sense of his visions.   
"It's like I'm seeing events of what could happen, events from the past."  
  
He stopped suddenly, his dreams coming back to him in a rush. "The paths of time are   
unravelling."  
  
"What?" Now Blair was truly worried. Jim was jumping from one thought to another   
much too rapidly for him to follow.  
  
"My animal spirit. He was trying to warn me about the paths of time unravelling. I bet   
what I'm seeing is some kind of side effect from the unravelling."  
  
Blair rose slowly to his feet. "Did you say unravelling?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Jim, I told you how I managed to track you down, right?"  
  
"You went on a spiritual hunt. Yeah, you told me that."  
  
"What I didn't tell you is that I met my animal spirit and he told me that the unravelling   
is as much of my doing's as it is of our foe's. And that I would only realise when I get   
my Sentinel back. So what if this unravelling he referred to is the same thing you're   
talking about?"  
  
"Then we have a whole bunch of questions that need answering."  
  
"Yeah." A new thought occurred to Blair. "Jim, you don't think they know, do you?"  
  
"I'm willing to bet they do." Jim glanced at the clock. "Come on, the visiting hours   
aren't over yet. We can still make it to the hospital."  
  
They had almost reached the Expedition before Jim noticed the phenomenon in the   
sky. He halted in mid-step, a chill crawling down his spine.   
  
"Jim?' Blair queried nervously, wondering if his Sentinel was experiencing another of   
those 'episodes'.  
  
"Look at the sky, Chief." Jim said quietly.   
  
Blair turned his gaze heavenward and his jaws dropped. "Oh my God," was all he   
could say.  
  
High above them, the sky seemed to ripple and stretched, tearing and shredding apart   
to reveal another sky beyond it. And that sky tore apart to reveal another sky beyond   
it. And another and another. It was a loop effect that was at once both frightening and   
unbelievable.  
  
"It's happening already."  
  
"What are we going to do, Jim?"  
  
"I don't know, Blair. I really don't know."  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
THE END 


End file.
